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THE ABSOLUTE AT LARGE
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
W*W YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO • DALLAS
ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO
MACMILLAN & CO., Limited
LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd.
TORONTO
THE ABSOLUTE AT
LARGE
BY
KAREL CAPEK
gorft
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1927
All rights reserved
Set up and printed.
Published May, 1927.
pran^Cu
public Hbtafy
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
BY THE FERRIS PRINTING COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Advertisement . i
II. The Karburator . 8
III. Pantheism . 16
IV. God in the Cellar . 25
V. Bishop Linda . 34
VI. The Board-Meeting . 45
VII. Developments . 53
VIII. The Dredge . 60
IX. The Ceremony . 71
X. Saint Ellen . 79
XI. The First Blow Struck . 87
XII. Doctor Blahous . 96
XIII. The Chronicler’s Apology .... 103
XIV. The Land of Plenty . no
XV. Disaster . 120
XVI. In the Mountains . 129
XVII. The Hammer and Star . 138
XVIII. In the Night Editor’s Room . . . 144
XIX. The Process of Canonization . . . 153
XX. St. Kilda . 160
v
Contents
yi
CHAPTER PAGE
XXI. The Telegram . 170
XXII. The Old Patriot . 177
XXIII. The Augsburg Imbroglio .... 186
XXIV. The Napoleon of the Mountain
Brigade . 195
XXV. The So-Called Greatest War . . 202
XXVI. The Battle of Hradec Kralove . . 209
XXVII. A Coral Island in the Pacific . . 216
XXVIII. At Seven Cottages . 223
XXIX. The Last Battle . 230
XXX. The End of Everything .... 236
THE ABSOLUTE AT LARGE
\
THE ABSOLUTE AT LARGE
CHAPTER I
THE ADVERTISEMENT
ON New Year’s Day, 1943, C. H. Bondy, head
of the great Metallo-Electric Company, was
sitting as usual reading his paper. He skipped the
news from the theatre of war rather disrespectfully,
avoided the Cabinet crisis, then crowded on sail (for
the People’s Journal, which had grown long ago to
live times its ancient size, now afforded enough canvas
for an ocean voyage) for the Finance and Commerce
section. Here he cruised about for quite a while,
then furled his sails, and abandoned himself to his
thoughts.
“The Coal Crisis!” he said to himself. “Mines
getting worked out; the Ostrava basin suspending
work for years. Heavens above, it’s a sheer disas¬
ter! We’ll have to import Upper Silesian coal. Just
work out what that will add to the cost of our manu¬
facturers, and then talk about competition. We’re
in a pretty fix. And if Germany raises her tariff, we
may as well shut up shop. And the Industrial Banks
going down, too ! What a wretched state of affairs !
2
The Absolute at Large
What a hopeless, stupid, stifling state of affairs!
Oh, damn the crisis!”
Here G. H. Bondy, Chairman of the Board of
Directors, came to a pause. Something was fidget¬
ing him and would not let him rest. He traced it
back to the last page of his discarded newspaper. It
was the syllable tion, only part of a word, for the
fold of the paper came just in front of the T. It
was this very incompleteness which had so curiously
impressed itself upon him.
“Well, hang it, it’s probably iron production,”
Bondy pondered vaguely, “or prevention, or,
maybe, restitution. . . . And the Azote shares have
gone down, too. The stagnation’s simply shocking.
The position’s so bad that it’s ridiculous. . . . But
that’s nonsense: who would advertise the restitu¬
tion of anything? More likely resignation. It’s
sure to be resignation.”
With a touch of annoyance, G. H. Bondy spread
out the newspaper to dispose of this irritating word.
It had now vanished amid the chequering of the
small advertisements. He hunted for it from one
column to another, but it had concealed itself with
provoking ingenuity. Mr. Bondy then worked from
the bottom up, and finally started again from the
right-hand side of the page. The contumacious
“tion” was not to be found.
Mr. Bondy did not give in. He refolded the
3
The Advertisement
paper along its former creases, and behold, the
detestable TION leaped forth on the very edge. Keep¬
ing his finger firmly on the spot, he swiftly spread the
paper out once more, and found - Mr. Bondy
swore under his breath. It was nothing but a very
modest, very commonplace small advertisement :
Invention.
Highly remunerative, suitable for any factory, for imme¬
diate sale, personal reasons. Apply R. Marek, Engineer,
Brevnov, 1651.
, “So that’s all it was!” thought G. H. Bondy.
“Some sort of patent braces; just a cheap swindle or
some crazy fellow’s pet plaything. And here I’ve
wasted five minutes on it ! I’m getting scatter¬
brained myself. What a wretched state of affairs !
And not a hint of improvement anywhere!”
He settled himself in a rocking-chair to savour
in more comfort the full bitterness of this wretched
state of affairs. True, the M.E.C. had ten factories
and 34,000 employees. The M.E.C. was the lead¬
ing producer of iron. The M.E.C. had no com¬
petitor as regards boilers. The M.E.C. grates were
world-famous. But after thirty years’ hard work,
gracious Heavens, surely one would have got bigger
results elsewhere .
G. H. Bondy sat up with a jerk. “R. Marek,
Engineer; R. Marek, Engineer. Half a minute:
/
4 The Absolute at Large
mightn’t that be that red-haired Marek — let’s see,
what was his name ? Rudolph, Rudy Marek, my old
chum Rudy of the Technical School? Sure enough,
here it is in the advertisement: ‘R. Marek, Engi¬
neer.’ Rudy, you rascal, is it possible? Well,
you’ve not got on very far in the world, my poor
fellow! Selling ‘a highly remunerative invention.’
Ha ! ha ! ‘. . . for personal reasons.’ We know all
about those ‘personal reasons.’ No money, isn’t
that what it is? You want to catch some jay of a
manufacturer on a nicely limed ‘patent,’ do you?
Oh, well, you always had rather a notion of turning
the world upside down. Ah, my lad, where are all
our fine notions now! And those extravagant, ro¬
mantic days when we were young!”
Bondy lay back in his chair once more.
“It’s quite likely it really is Marek,” he reflected.
“Still, Marek had a head for science. He was a
bit of a talker, but there was a touch of genius about
the lad. He had ideas. In other respects he was a
fearfully unpractical fellow. An absolute fool, in
fact. It’s very surprising that he isn’t a Professor,”
mused Mr. Bondy. “I haven’t set eyes on him for
twenty years. God knows what he has been up to ;
perhaps he’s come right down in the world. Yes, he
must be down and out, living away over in Brevnov,
poor chap . . . and getting a living out of inventions !
What an awful finish!”
The Advertisement
5
He tried to imagine the straits of the fallen in¬
ventor. He managed to picture a horribly shaggy
and dishevelled head, surrounded by dismal paper
walls like those in a film. There is no furniture, only
a mattress in the corner, and a pitiful model made
of spools, nails, and match-ends on the table. A
murky window looks out on a little yard. Upon this
scene of unspeakable indigence enters a visitor in
rich furs. “I have come to have a look at your inven¬
tion.” The half-blind inventor fails to recognize
his old schoolfellow. He humbly bows his tousled
head, looks about for a seat to offer to his guest,
and then, oh Heaven ! with his poor, stiff, shaking
fingers he tries to get his sorry invention going —
it’s some crazy perpetual motion device — and mum¬
bles confusedly that it should work, and certainly
would work, if only he had ... if only he could buy.
. . . The fur-coated visitor looks all around the gar¬
ret, and suddenly he takes a leather wallet from his
pocket and lays on the table one, two (Mr. Bondy
takes fright and cries “That’s enough!”) three thou¬
sand-crown notes. (“One would have been quite
enough . . . to go on with, I mean,” protests some¬
thing in Mr. Bondy’s brain.)
“There is . . . something to carry on the work
with, Mr. Marek. No, no, you’re not in any way
indebted to me. Who am I? That doesn’t matter.
Just take it that I am a friend.”
*
6 The Absolute at Large
Bondy, found this scene very pleasant and touch¬
ing.
“I’ll send my secretary to Marek,” he resolved;
“to-morrow without fail. And what shall I do to¬
day? It’s a holiday; I’m not going to the works.
My time’s my own ... a wretched state things are
in! Nothing to do all day long! Suppose I went
round to-day myself.”
G. H. Bondy hesitated. It would be a bit of an
adventure to go and see for oneself how that queer
fellow was struggling along in Brevnov.
“After all, we were such chums ! And old times
have their claim on one. Yes, I’ll go!” decided Mr.
Bondy. And he went.
He had rather a boring time while his car was
gliding all over Brevnov in search of a mean hovel
bearing the number 1651. They had to inquire at
the police-station.
“Marek, Marek,” said the inspector, searching
his memory. “That must be Marek the engineer,
of Marek and Co., the electric lamp factory, 1651,
Mixa Street.”
The electric lamp factory! Bondy felt disap¬
pointed, even annoyed. Rudy Marek wasn’t living
up in a garret, then ! He was a manufacturer and
wanted to sell some invention or other “for personal
reasons.” If that didn’t smell of bankruptcy, his
name wasn’t Bondy.
7
The Advertisement
“Do you happen to know how Mr. Marek is
doing?” he asked the police inspector, with a casual
air, as he took his seat in the car.
“Oh, splendidly!” the inspector answered. “He’s
got a very line business.” Local pride made him
add, “The firm’s very well known”; and he ampli¬
fied this with: “A very wealthy man, and a learned
one, too. He does nothing but make experiments.”
“Mixa Street!” cried Bondy to his chauffeur.
“Third on the right!” the inspector called after
the car.
Bondy was soon ringing at the residential part of
quite a pretty little factory.
“It’s all very nice and clean here,” he remarked to
himself. “Flower-beds in the yard, creeper on the
walls. Humph! There always was a touch of the
philanthropist and reformer about that confounded
Marek.” And at that moment Marek himself came
out on the steps to meet him; Rudy Marek, awfully
thin and serious-looking, up in the clouds, so to speak.
It gave Bondy a queer pang to find him neither so
young as he used to be nor so unkempt as that
inventor; so utterly different from what Bondy had
imagined that he was scarcely recognizable. But
before he could fully realize his disillusionment,
Marek stretched out his hand and said quietly,
“Well, so you’ve come at last, Bondy! I’ve been
expecting you I”
CHAPTER II
THE KARBURATOR
« T ’ve been expecting you !” Marek repeated, when
X he had seated his guest in a comfortable leather
chair. Nothing on earth would have induced Bondy
to own up to his vision of the fallen inventor. “Just
fancy !” he said, with a rather forced gaiety. “What
a coincidence ! It struck me only this very morning
that we hadn’t seen one another for twenty years.
Twenty years, Rudy, think of it!”
“Hm,” said Marek. “And so you want to buy
my invention.”
“Buy it?” said G. H. Bondy hesitatingly. “I
really don’t know ... I haven’t even given it a
thought. I wanted to see you and - ”
“Oh, come, you needn’t pretend,” Marek inter¬
rupted him. “I knew that you were coming. You’d
be sure to, for a thing like this. This kind of inven¬
tion is just in your line. There’s a lot to be done
with it.” He made an eloquent motion with his
hand, coughed, and began again more deliberately.
“The invention I am going to show you means a
bigger revolution in technical methods than Watt’s
8
9
The Karburator
invention of the steam-engine. To give you its
nature briefly, it provides, putting it theoretically, for
the complete utilization of atomic energy
Bondy concealed a yawn. “But tell me, what
have you been doing all these twenty years?”
Marek glanced at him with some surprise.
“Modern science teaches that all matter — that is
to say, its atoms — is composed of a vast number of
units of energy. An atom is in reality a collection
of electrons, i.e. of the tiniest particles of
electricity.”
“That’s tremendously interesting,” Bondy broke
in. “I was always weak in physics, you know. But
you’re not looking well, Marek. By the way, how
did you happen to come by this playth . . . this,
er . . . factory?”
“I ? Oh, quite by accident. I invented a new kind
of filament for electric bulbs. . . . But that’s noth¬
ing; I only came upon it incidentally. You see, for
twenty years I’ve been working on the combustion
of matter. Tell me yourself, Bondy, what is the
greatest problem of modern industry?”
“Doing business,” said Bondy. “And are you
married yet?”
“I’m a widower,” answered Marek, leaping up
excitedly. “No, business has nothing to do with it,
I tell you. It’s combustion. The complete utiliza¬
tion of the heat-energy contained in matter! Just
IO
The Absolute at Large
consider that we use hardly one hundred-thousandth
of the heat that there is in coal, and that could be
extracted from itl Do you realize that!”
“Yes, coal is terribly dear!” said Mr. Bondy
sapiently.
Marek sat down and cried disgustedly, “Look
here, if you haven’t come here about my Karbura-
tor, Bondy, you can go.”
“Go ahead, then,” Bondy returned, anxious to
conciliate him.
Marek rested his head in his hands, and after a
struggle came out with, “For twenty years I’ve been
working on it, and now — now, I’ll sell it to the first
man who comes along! My magnificent dream!
The greatest invention of all the ages ! Seriously,
Bondy, I tell you, it’s something really amazing.”
“No doubt, in the present wretched state of
affairs,” assented Bondy.
“No, without any qualification at all, amazing.
Do you realize that it means the utilization of
atomic energy without any residue whatever?”
“Aha,” said Bondy. “So we’re going to do our
heating with atoms. Well, why not? . . . You’ve
got a nice place here, Rudy. Small and pleasant.
How many hands do you employ?”
Marek took no notice. “You know,” he said
thoughtfully, “it’s all the same thing, whatever you
call it — the utilization of atomic energy, or the com-
1 1
The Karburator
plete combustion of matter, or the disintegration of
matter. You can call it what you please.”
“I’m in favour of ‘combustion’ 1” said Mr.
Bondy. “It sounds more familiar.”
“But ‘disintegration’ is more exact — to break up
the atoms into electrons, and harness the electrons
and make them work. Do you understand that?”
“Perfectly,” Bondy assured him. “The point is
to harness them!”
“Well, imagine, say, that there are two horses
at the ends of a rope, pulling with all their might
in opposite directions. Do you know what you have
then ?”
“Some kind of sport, I suppose,” suggested Mr.
Bondy.
“No, a state of repose. The horses pull, but
they stay where they are. And if you were to cut
the rope - ”
“ — The horses would fall over,” cried G. H.
Bondy, with a flash of inspiration.
“No, but they would start running; they would
become energy released. Now, pay attention. Mat¬
ter is a team in that very position. Cut the bonds
that hold its electrons together, and they will . . .”
“Run loose !”
“Yes, but we can catch and harness them, don’t
you see? Or put it to yourself this way: we burn
a piece of coal, say, to produce heat. We do get a
12
The Absolute at Large
little heat from it, but we also get ashes, coal-gas,
and soot. So we don’t lose the matter altogether,
do we?”
“No. — Won’t you have a cigar?”
“No, I won’t. — But the matter which is left still
contains a vast quantity of unused atomic energy.
If we used up the whole of the atomic energy, we
should use up the whole of the atoms. In short, the
matter would vanish altogether.”
“Aha! Now I understand.”
“It’s just as though we were to grind corn badly
— as if we ground up the thin outer husk and threw
the rest away, just as we throw away ashes. When
the grinding is perfect, there’s nothing or next to
nothing left of the grain, is there? In the same
way, when there is perfect combustion, there’s noth¬
ing or next to nothing left of the matter we burn.
It’s ground up completely. It is used up. It returns
to its original nothingness. You know, it takes a
tremendous amount of energy to make matter exist
at all. Take away its existence, compel it not to be,
and you thereby release an enormous supply of
power. That’s how it is, Bondy.”
“Aha. That’s not bad.”
“Pfliiger, for instance, calculates that one kilo¬
gramme of coal contains twenty-three billions of
calories. I think that Pfliiger exaggerates.”
“Decidedly.”
The Karburator 13
“I have arrived at seven billions myself, theoreti¬
cally. But even that signifies that one kilogramme
of coal, if it underwent complete combustion, would
run a good-sized factory for several hundred hours !”
“The devil it does!” cried Mr. Bondy, springing
from his chair.
“I can’t give you the exact number of hours. I’ve
been burning half a kilogramme of coal for six
weeks at a pressure of thirty kilogrammetres and,
man alive,” said the engineer in a whisper, turning
pale, “it’s still going on . . . and on . . , . and on.”
Bondy was embarrassed; he stroked his smooth
round chin. “Listen, Marek,” he began, hesitat¬
ingly. “You’re surely ... er ... a bit ... er
. . . overworked.”
Marek’s hand thrust the suggestion aside. “Not
a bit of it. If you’d only get up physics a bit, I
could give you an explanation of my Karburator 1 in
which the combustion takes place. It involves a
whole chapter of advanced physics, you know. But
you’ll see it downstairs in the cellar. I shovelled
half a kilogramme of coal into the machine, then I
shut it up and had it officially sealed in the presence
1 This name which Marek gave to his atomic boiler is, of course,
quite incorrect, and is one of the melancholy results of the ignorance
of Latin among technicians. A more exact term would have been
Komburator, Atomic Kettle, Karbowatt, Disintegrator, Motor M,
Bondymover, Hylergon, Molecular Disintegration Dynamo, E. W.,
and other designations which were later proposed. It was, of
course, the bad one that was generally adopted.
14
The Absolute at Large
of witnesses, so that no one could put any more coal
in. Go and have a look at it for yourself — go on —
go now! You won’t understand it, anyway, but —
go down to the cellar! Go on down, man, I tell
you !”
“Won’t you come with me?” asked Bondy in
astonishment.
“No, you go alone. And ... I say, Bondy . . .
don’t stay down there long.”
“Why not?” asked Bondy, growing a trifle sus¬
picious.
“Oh, nothing much. Only I’ve a notion that per¬
haps it’s not quite healthy down there. Turn on
the light, the switch is just by the door. That noise
down in the cellar doesn’t come from my machine.
It works noiselessly, steadily, and without any smell.
. . . The roaring is only a ... a ventilator. Well,
now, you go on. I’ll wait here. Then you can tell
me . . .”
* * * * *
Bondy went down the cellar steps, quite glad to be
away from that madman for a while (quite mad, no
doubt whatever about it) and rather worried as to
the quickest means of getting out of the place alto¬
gether. Why, just look, the cellar had a huge thick
reinforced door just like an armour-plated safe in a
bank. And now let’s have a light. The switch was
just by the door. And there in the middle of the
i5
The Karburator
arched concrete cellar, clean as a monastery cell, lay
a gigantic copper cylinder resting on cement sup¬
ports. It was closed on all sides except at the top,
where there was a grating bedecked with seals.
Inside the machine all was darkness and silence.
With a smooth and regular motion the cylinder
thrust forth a piston which slowly rotated a heavy
fly-wheel. That was all. Only the ventilator in the
cellar window kept up a ceaseless rattle.
Perhaps it was the draught from the ventilator or
something — but Mr. Bondy felt a peculiar breeze
upon his brow, and an eerie sensation as though his
hair were standing on end; and then it seemed as if
he were being borne through boundless space; and
then as though he were floating in the air without
any sensation of his own weight. G. H. Bondy fell
on his knees, lost in a bewildering, shining ecstasy.
He felt as if he must shout and sing, he seemed to
hear about him the rustle of unceasing and innumer¬
able wings. And suddenly someone seized him vio¬
lently by the hand and dragged him from the cellar.
It was Marek, wearing over his head a mask or a
helmet like a diver’s, and he hauled Bondy up the
stairs.
Up in the room he pulled off his metal head-cov¬
ering and wiped away the sweat that soaked his
brow.
“Only just in time,” he gasped, showing tre¬
mendous agitation.
CHAPTER III
PANTHEISM
H. Bondy felt rather as though he were
VJ • dreaming. Marek settled him in an easy
chair with quite maternal solicitude, and made haste
to bring some brandy.
“Here, drink this up quickly,” he jerked out
hoarsely, offering him the glass with a trembling
hand. “You came over queer down there too, didn’t
you?”
“On the contrary,” Bondy answered unsteadily.
“It was ... it was beautiful, old chap ! I felt as
if I were flying, or something like that.”
“Yes, yes,” said Marek quickly. “That’s exactly
what I mean. As though you were flying along, or
rather soaring upward, wasn’t that it?”
“It was a feeling of perfect bliss,” said Mr.
Bondy. “I think it’s what you’d call being trans¬
ported. As if there was something down there . . .
something ...”
“Something — holy?” asked Marek hesitatingly.
“Perhaps. Yes, man alive, you’re right. I never
go to church, Rudy, never in my life, but down in
Pantheism *7
that cellar I felt as if I were in church. Tell me,
man, what did I do down there?”
“You went on your knees,” Marek muttered with
a bitter smile, and began striding up and down the
room.
Bondy stroked his bald head in bewilderment.
“That’s extraordinary. But come, on my knees?
Well, then, tell me what . . . what is there in the
cellar that acts on one so queerly?”
“The Karburator,” growled Marek, gnawing his
lips. His cheeks seemed even more sunken than
before, and were as pale as death.
“But, confound it, man,” cried Bondy in amaze¬
ment, “how can it be?”
The engineer only shrugged his shoulders, and
with bent head went on pacing up and down the
room.
G. H. Bondy’s eyes followed him with childish
astonishment. “The man’s crazy,” he said to him¬
self. “All the same, what the devil is it that comes
over one in that cellar? That tormenting bliss, that
tremendous security, that terror, that overwhelming
feeling of devotion, or whatever you like to call
it.” Mr. Bondy arose and poured himself out an¬
other dash of brandy.
“I say, Marek,” he said, “I’ve got it now.”
“Got what?” exclaimed Marek, halting.
“That business in the cellar. That queer psychi-
1 8 The Absolute at Large
cal condition. It’s some form of poisoning, isn’t
it? . .
Marek gave an angry laugh. “Oh, yes, of course,
poisoning!”
“I thought so at once,” declared Bondy, his mind
at rest in an instant. “That apparatus of yours
produces something, ah . . . er . . . something like
ozone, doesn’t it? Or more likely poisonous gas.
And when anyone inhales it, it . . . er . . . poisons
him or excites him somehow, isn’t that it? Why, of
course, man, it’s nothing but poisonous gases; they’re
probably given off somehow by the combustion of
the coal in that . . . that Karburator of yours.
Some sort of illuminating gas or paradise gas, or
phosgene or something of the sort. That’s why
you’ve put in the ventilator, and that’s why you
wear a gas-mask when you go into the cellar, isn’t
it? Just some confounded gases.”
“If only there were nothing but gases!” Marek
burst out, shaking his fists threateningly. “Look
here, Bondy, that’s why I must sell that Karbura¬
tor ! I simply can’t stand it — I can’t stand it . . .
I can’t stand it,” he shouted, well-nigh weeping. “I
never dreamed my Karburator would do anything
like this . . . this . . . terrifying mischief! Just
think, it’s been going on like that from the very be¬
ginning ! And every one feels it who comes near the
thing. You haven’t any notion even yet, Bondy.
But our porter caught it properly.”
Pantheism 19
“Poor fellow!” said the astonished Bondy, full of
sympathy. “And did he die of it?”
“No, but he got converted,” cried Marek in
despair. “Bondy, you’re a man I can confide in.
My invention, my Karburator, has one terrible de¬
fect. Nevertheless, you’re going to buy it or else
take it from me as a gift. You will, Bondy — even
if it spews forth demons. It doesn’t matter to you,
Bondy, so long as you can get your millions out of
it. And you’ll get them, man. It’s a stupendous
thing, I tell you - ; but I don’t want to have any¬
thing more to do with it. You haven’t such a sensi¬
tive conscience as I have, you know, Bondy. It’ll
bring in millions, thousands of millions; but it will
lay a frightful load upon your conscience. Make up
your mind!”
“Oh, leave me alone,” Mr. Bondy protested. “If
it gives off poisonous gases, the authorities will pro¬
hibit it, and there’s an end of it. You know the
wretched state of affairs here. Now in America
“It isn’t poisonous gases,” Marek exclaimed.
“It’s something a thousand times worse. Mark
what I tell you, Bondy, it’s something beyond human
reason, but there’s not a scrap of deception about it.
Well, then, my Karburator actually does burn up
matter, causes its utter combustion, so that not even
a grain of dust remains. Or rather, it breaks it up,
crushes it, splits it up into electrons, consumes it,
20
The Absolute at Large
grinds it — I don’t know how to express it — in short,
uses it up completely. You have no idea what a
colossal amount of energy is contained in the atoms.
With half a hundredweight of coal in the Karbura-
ator you can sail right round the world in a steam¬
ship, you can light the whole city of Prague, you
can supply power for the whole of a huge factory,
or anything you like. A bit of coal the size of a
nut will do the heating and the cooking for a whole
family. And ultimately we shan’t even require coal ;
we can do our heating with the first pebble or hand¬
ful of dirt we pick up in front of the house. Every
scrap of matter has in it more energy than an enor¬
mous boiler; you’ve only to extract it. You’ve only
to know how to secure total combustion! Well,
Bondy, I can do it; my Karburator can do it. You’ll
admit, Bondy, that it has been worth while toiling
over it for twenty years.”
“Look here, Rudy,” Bondy began slowly, “it’s
all very extraordinary — but I believe you, so to
speak. On my soul, I do believe you. You know,
when I stood in front of that Karburator of yours,
I felt that I was in the presence of something over-
poweringly great, something a man could not with¬
stand. I can’t help it: I believe you. Down there
in the cellar you have something uncanny, some¬
thing that will overturn the whole world.”
“Alas, Bondy,” Marek whispered anxiously,
Pantheism 21
“that’s just where the trouble is. Listen, and I’ll
tell you the whole thing. Have you ever read
Spinoza?”
“No.”
“No more had I. But now, you see, I am begin¬
ning to read that sort of thing. I don’t understand
it — it’s terribly difficult stuff for us technical people
— but there’s something in it. Do you by any chance
believe in God?”
“I? Well, now . . . ” G. H. Bondy deliberated.
“Upon my word, I couldn’t say. Perhaps there is
a God, but He’s on some other planet. Not on
ours. Oh, well, that sort of thing doesn’t fit in with
our times at all. Tell me, what makes you drag
that into it?”
“I don’t believe in anything,” said Marek in a
hard voice. “I don’t want to believe. I have al¬
ways been an atheist. I believed in matter and in
progress and in nothing else. I’m a scientific man,
Bondy; and science cannot admit the existence of
God.”
“From the business point of view,” Mr. Bondy
remarked, “it’s a matter of indifference. If He
wants to exist, in Heaven’s name, let Him. We
aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“But from the scientific point of view, Bondy,”
cried the engineer sternly, “it is absolutely intol¬
erable. It’s a case of Him or science. I don’t as-
22
The Absolute at Large
sert that God does not exist; I only assert that He
ought not to exist, or at least ought not to let Him¬
self be seen. And I believe that science is crowding
Him out step by step, or at any rate is preventing
Him from letting Himself be seen; and I believe
that that is the greatest mission of science.”
“Possibly,” said Bondy calmly. “But go on.”
“And now just imagine, Bondy, that - But
wait, I’ll put it to you this way. Do you know what
Pantheism is? It’s the belief that God, or the Ab¬
solute, if you prefer it, is manifest in everything that
exists. In men, as in stones, in the grass, the water
— everywhere. And do you know what Spinoza
teaches? That matter is only the outward manifes¬
tation, only one phase of the divine substance, the
other phase of which is spirit. And do you know
what Fechner teaches?”
“No, I don’t,” the other admitted.
“Fechner teaches that everything, everything that
is, is penetrated with the divine, that God fills with
His being the whole of the matter in the world. And
do you know Leibniz? Leibniz teaches that phys¬
ical matter is composed of psychical atoms, monads,
whose nature is divine. What do you say to that?”
“I don’t know,” said G. H. Bondy. “I don’t un¬
derstand it.”
“Nor do I. It’s fearfully abstruse. But let us
assume, for the sake of argument, that God is con-
Pantheism 23
tained in all forms of physical matter, that He is,
as it were, imprisoned in it. And when you smash
this matter up completely, He flies out of it as though
from a box. He is suddenly set free. He is re¬
leased from matter as illuminating gas is from coal.
You have only to burn one single atom up com¬
pletely, and immediately the whole cellar is filled
with the Absolute. It’s simply appalling how
quickly it spreads.”
“Hold on,” Mr. Bondy interrupted. “Say that
all over again, but say it slowly.”
“Look at it like this then,” said Marek. “We’re
assuming that all matter contains the Absolute in
some state of confinement. We can call it a latent
imprisoned force, or simply say that as God is
omnipresent He is therefore present in all matter
and in every particle of matter. And now suppose
you utterly destroy a piece of matter, apparently
leaving not the slightest residue. Then, since all
matter is really Matter plus Absolute, what you
have destroyed is only the matter, and you’re left
with an indestructible residue — free and active Abso¬
lute. You’re left with the chemically unanalysable,
immaterial residue, which shows no spectrum lines,
neither atomic weight nor chemical affinity, no
obedience to Boyle’s law, none, none whatever, of
the properties of matter. What is left behind is
pure God. A chemical nullity which acts with mon-
24
The Absolute at Large
strous energy. Being immaterial, it is not subject
to the laws of matter. Thence, it already follows
that its manifestations are contrary to nature and
downright miraculous. All this proceeds from the
assumption that God is present in all matter. Can
you imagine, for the sake of argument, that He is
really so present?”
“I certainly can,” said Bondy. “What then?”
“Good,” said Marek, rising to his feet. “Then
it’s the solemn truth.”
CHAPTER IV
GOD IN THE CELLAR
GH. Bondy sucked meditatively at his cigar.
• “And how did you find it out, old chap?”
he asked at last.
“By the effect on myself,” said the engineer,
resuming his march up and down the room. “As a
result of its complete disintegration of matter, my
Perfect Karburator manufactures a by-product : pure
and unconfined Absolute, God in a chemically pure
form. At one end, so to speak, it emits mechanical
power, and at the other, the divine principle. Just
as when you split water up into hydrogen and oxy¬
gen, only on an immensely larger scale.”
“Hm,” said Mr. Bondy. “And then—?”
“I’ve an idea,” continued Marek cautiously, “that
there are many of the elect who can separate the
material substance in themselves from the divine
substance. They can release or distil the Absolute,
as it were, from their material selves. Christ and
the miracle-workers, fakirs, mediums, and prophets
have achieved it by means of their psychic power.
25
26
The Absolute at Large
My Karburator does it by a purely mechanical pro¬
cess. It acts, you might say, as a factory for the
Absolute.”
“Facts,” said G. H. Bondy. “Stick to facts.”
“These are facts. I constructed my Perfect Kar¬
burator only in theory to begin with. Then I made
a little model, which wouldn’t go. The fourth
model was the first that really worked. It was only
about so big, but it ran quite nicely. But even while
I was working with it on this small scale, I felt
peculiar physical effects — a strange exhilaration — a
‘fey’ feeling. But I thought it was due to being so
pleased about the invention, or to being overworked,
perhaps. It was then that I first began to prophesy
and perform miracles.”
“To do what?” Bondy cried.
“To prophesy and perform miracles,” Marek re¬
peated gloomily. “I had moments of astounding
illumination. I saw, for instance, quite clearly,
things that would happen in the future. I predicted
even your visit here. And once I tore my nail off
on a lathe. I looked at the damaged finger, and all
at once a new nail grew on it. Very likely I’d formed
the wish, but all the same it’s queer and . . . ter¬
rible. Another time — just think of it — I rose right
up into the air. It’s called levitation, you know. I
never believed in any rubbish of that kind, so you
can imagine the shock it gave me.”
God in the Cellar 27
“I can quite believe it,” said Bondy gravely. “It
must be most distressing.”
“Extremely distressing. I thought it must be due
to nerves, a kind of auto-suggestion or something.
In the meanwhile I erected the big Karburator in the
cellar and started it off. As I told you, it’s been run¬
ning now for six weeks, day and night. And it was
there that I first realized the full significance of the
business. In a single day the cellar was chock-full of
the Absolute, ready to burst with it; and it began
to spread all over the house. The pure Absolute
pentrates all matter, you know, but it takes a little
longer with solid substances. In the air it spread as
swiftly as light. When I went in, I tell you, man, it
took me like a stroke. I shrieked out aloud. I don’t
know where I got the strength to run away. When
I got upstairs, I thought over the whole business.
My first notion was that it must be some new
intoxicating, stimulating gas, developed by the
process of complete combustion. That’s why I had
that ventilator fixed up, from the outside. Two of
the fitters on the job “saw the light” and had visions;
the third was a drinker and so perhaps to some
extent immune. As long as I thought it was only a
gas, I made a series of experiments with it, and it’s
interesting to find that any light burns much more
brightly in the Absolute. If it would let itself be
confined in glass bulbs, I’d fill lamps with it; but it
28
The Absolute at Large
escapes from any vessel, however thick you make it.
Then I decided it must be some sort of Ultra-X-ray,
but there’s no trace of any form of electricity, and
it makes no impression on photo-sensitive plates. On
the third day, the porter and his wife, who live just
over the cellar, had to be taken off to the sana¬
torium.”
“What for?” asked Bondy.
“He got religion. He was inspired. He gave
religious addresses and performed miracles. His
wife uttered prophecies. My porter had been a
thoroughly hard-headed chap, a monist and a free¬
thinker, and an unusually steady fellow. Well, just
fancy, from no visible cause whatever, he started
healing people by laying on of hands. Of course,
Bondy, he was reported at once. The district health
officer, who is a friend of mine, was tremendously
upset about it; so, to avoid any scandal, I had the
porter sent to a sanatorium. They say he’s better
now; quite cured. He has lost the power to per¬
form miracles. I’m going to send him on the land
to recuperate. . . . Then I began to work miracles
myself and see into the future. Among other things,
I had visions of gigantic, swampy primeval forests,
overgrown with mosses and inhabited by weird mon¬
sters — probably because the Karburator was burning
Upper Silesian coal, which is of the oldest forma-
God in the Cellar 29
tion. Possibly the God of the Carboniferous Age
is in it.”
Mr. Bondy shuldered. “Marek, this is frightful !”
“It is indeed,” said Marek sorrowfully. “Gradu¬
ally I began to see that it wasn’t gas, but the Abso¬
lute. The symptoms were terrible. I could read
people’s thoughts, light emanated from me, I had a
desperate struggle not to become absorbed in prayer
and preach belief in God. I tried to clog the Kar-
burator up with sand, but I was seized with a bout of
levitation. That machine won’t let anything stop it.
I don’t sleep at home nowadays. Even in the factory
there have been several serious cases of illumination
among the workmen. I don’t know where to turn,
Bondy. Yes, I’ve tried every possible isolating
material that might prevent the Absolute from get¬
ting out of the cellar. Ashes, sand, metal walls,
nothing can keep it back. I’ve even tried covering
the cellar with the work of Professor Krejci,
Spencer, Haeckel, and all the Positivists you can
think of: would you believe it, the Absolute goes
calmly through even that stuff ! Even papers, prayer-
books, Lives of the Saints, Patriotic Song-books,
university lectures, best-sellers, political treatises,
and Parliamentary Reports, present no obstacle to
it. I’m simply desperate. You can’t shut it up, you
can’t soak it up. It’s mischief let loose.”
3° The Absolute at Large
“Oh, but why?” said Mr. Bondy. “Does it really
mean such mischief ? Even if all this were true . . .
is it such a disaster?”
“Bondy, my Karburator is a terriffic thing. It
will overturn the whole world, mechanically and
socially. It will cheapen production to an unbeliev¬
able extent. It will do away with poverty and
hunger. It will some day save our planet from
freezing up. But, on the other hand, it hurls God
as a by-product into the world. I implore you,
Bondy, don’t underrate what it means. We aren’t
used to reckoning with God as a reality. We don’t
know what His presence may bring about — say,
socially, morally, and so on. Why, man, this thing
affects the whole of human civilization 1”
“Wait a minute !” said Bondy thoughtfully. “Per¬
haps there’s some charm or other that would exor¬
cise it. Have you called in the clergy?”
“What kind of clergy?”
“Any kind. The denomination probably makes
no difference in this case, you know. Perhaps they
could do something to stop it.”
“Oh, that’s all superstition!” burst out Marek.
“Leave me alone with your parsons! Catch me
giving them a chance to make a miraculous shrine
out of my cellar ! Me, with my views !”
“Very well,” declared Mr. Bondy. “Then I’ll
call them in myself. You never can tell. . . .
3i
God in the Cellar
Come, it can’t do any harm, anyway. After all, I
haven’t anything against God. Only He oughtn’t
to interfere with business. Have you tried nego¬
tiating with Him in a friendly spirit?”
“No,” admitted the engineer.
“That was a mistake,” said Bondy dryly. “Per¬
haps you could come to some agreement with Him.
A proper formal contract, in something like this
style : ‘We guarantee to produce You discreetly and
continuously to an extent to be fixed by mutual agree¬
ment; in return for which You pledge yourself to
refrain from any divine manifestations within such
and such a radius from the place of origin.’ What
do you think — would He consider these terms?”
“I don’t know,” answered Marek uneasily. “He
seems to have a decided inclination in favour of
becoming independent of matter once more. Still,
perhaps ... in His own interests . . . He
might be willing to listen. But don’t ask me to
do it.”
“Very well, then!” Bondy agreed. “I’ll send my
own solicitor. A very tactful and capable fellow.
And then again . . . er . . . . one might
perhaps offer Him some church or other. After
all, a factory cellar and its surroundings are rather
. . . well . . . undignified quarters for Him.
We ought to ascertain His tastes. Have you tried
yet?”
32
The Absolute at Large
“No; it would suit me best to flood the cellar
with water.”
“Gently, Marek, gently. I’m probably going to
buy this invention. You understand, of course, that
. . . I’ll send my experts over first . . . we’ll
have to look into the business a little further.
Perhaps it’s only poisonous fumes, after all.
And if it actually turns out to be God Himself,
that’s all right. So long as the Karburator really
works.”
Marek got up. “And you wouldn’t be afraid to
install the Karburator in the M.E.C. works?”
“I’m not afraid,” said Bondy, rising, “to manu¬
facture Karburators wholesale. Karburators for
trains and ships. Karburators for central heating,
for houses, offices, factories, and schools. In ten
years’ time all the heating in the world will be done
by Karburators. I’ll give you three per cent, of
the gross profits. The first year it will only be a
few millions, perhaps. Meanwhile you can move
out, so that I can send my men along. I’ll bring the
Suffragan Bishop up to-morrow morning. See that
you keep out of his way, Rudy. I don’t like seeing
you about here in any case. You are rather abrupt,
and I don’t want to offend the Absolute to start
with.”
“Bondy,” Marek whispered, horror-stricken. “I
God in the Cellar 33
warn you for the last time. It means letting God
loose upon this world!”
“Then,” said G. H. Bondy, with dignity, “He will
be personally indebted to me to that extent. And I
hope that He won’t show me any ill-feeling.”
CHAPTER V
BISHOP LINDA
Aijout a fortnight after New Year’s Day,
Marek was sitting in Bondy’s business office.
“How far have you got?” Bondy had just asked,
raising his head from some papers over which he
was bending.
“I’ve finished,” said the engineer. “I’ve given
your engineers detailed drawings of the Karburator.
That bald-headed fellow — what’s his name - ”
“Krolmus.”
“Yes, Krolmus has simplified my atomic motor
amazingly — the transformation of electronic energy
into motor power, you know. He’s an able fellow,
my boy, is Krolmus. And what other news is
there?”
G. H. Bondy went on writing assiduously.
“We’re building,” he said after a while. “Seven
thousand bricklayers on the job. A factory for
Karburators.”
“At Vysocany. And we’ve increased our share
capital. A billion and a half. Our new invention’s
getting into the papers. See for yourself,” he added,
tipping half a hundredweight of Czech and foreign
34
Bishop Linda 35
papers into Marek’s lap, then buried himself in the
documents on his desk.
“I haven’t been for a fortnight,” said Marek
gloomily.
“Haven’t been where?”
“I haven’t been to my little factory out at Brevnov
for a fortnight. I — I daren’t go there. Is anything
being done there?”
“Mphm.”
“And what about my Karburator?” asked Marek,
controlling his anxiety.
“It’s still running.”
“And what about . . . the other thing?”
The Chief sighed and laid down his pen. “Do
you know that we had to have Mixa Street closed?”
“Why?”
“People kept going there to pray. Whole pro¬
cessions of them. The police tried to disperse them,
and seven people lost their lives. They let them¬
selves be knocked over like sheep.”
“I feared as much, I feared as much,” muttered
Marek in despair.
“We’ve blocked the street with barbed wire,”
Bondy went on. “We had to clear the people out
of the neighbouring houses — religious manifesta¬
tions all over them, you know. A commission of
the Ministries of Health and Education is occupying
them now.”
36
The Absolute at Large
“I expect,” said Marek with a breath of relief,
“that the authorities will prohibit my Karburator.”
“Oh, no they won’t,” said G. H. Bondy. “The
Clerical party are making a fearful row about your
Karburator, and for that very reason the progressive
parties have taken it under their wing. In reality
no one knows what it’s all about. It’s evident that
you don’t read the papers, man. It’s developed into
a quite needless attack upon clericalism, and the
Church happens to have a little right on its side in
this case. That confounded Bishop informed the
Cardinal Archbishop - ”
“What Bishop?”
“Oh, some Bishop by the name of Linda, quite
a sensible man in other respects. You see, I took
him up there as an expert, to inspect the wonder¬
working Absolute. His inspection lasted a full three
hours, and he spent the whole time in the cellar,
and . .
“He got religion?” burst out Marek.
“Not a bit of it! Perhaps, he’s had too long a
training with God, or else he’s a more hard-baked
atheist than you ; I don’t know. But three days later
he came to me and told me that from the Catholic
standpoint God cannot be brought into the matter,
that the Church absolutely rejects and forbids the
pantheistic hypothesis as heresy. In short, that this
isn’t any legal, duly recognized God, supported by
Bishop Linda 37
the authority of the Church, and that, as a
priest, he must declare it false, perverse, and
heretical. He talked very reasonably, did his
Reverence.”
“So he wasn’t conscious of any supernatural mani¬
festations down there?”
“He underwent them all: illuminations, miracu¬
lous powers, ecstasy, everything. He doesn’t deny,
either, that these things happen there.”
“Well, then, tell me, how does he explain it?”
“He simply doesn’t. He said that the Church
does not explain, but merely prescribes or prohibits.
In short, he definitely refused to compromise the
Church with any new and untried God. At least,
that’s what I understood him to mean. Do you
know that I’ve bought that church up on the White
Mountain ?”
“Why?”
“It’s the nearest one to Brevnov. It cost me
three hundred thousand, man. Both in writing and
by word of mouth I offered it to the Absolute down
in the cellar to induce it to move over there. It’s
quite a pretty baroque church; and besides, I ex¬
pressed my readiness to undertake any necessary
alterations. And here’s a queer thing: just a few
steps from the church, at No. 457, there was a fine
case of ecstasy the night before last — one of our
erectors; but in the church itself nothing miraculous
38
The Absolute at Large
happened, nothing whatever. There was even one
case right out in Vokovice and two in Kosire, while
at the Petrin wireless station there’s practically an
epidemic of religion. All the wrieless operators on
duty up there are sending out ecstatic messages of
their own accord, a sort of new gospel to the world
at large: God coming down again to the earth to
ransom it, and so forth. Just imagine the scandal !
Now the progressive papers are going for the Post
Office, and the fur’s fairly flying. They’re screaming
about Clericalism showing its horns, and rubbish of
that kind. Nobody as yet suspects that this has any
connection with the Karburator. Marek,” Bondy
added in a whisper, “I’ll tell you something, but it’s
a dead secret. A week ago it attacked our Minister
for War.”
“Whom!” cried Marek.
“Hush, quietly. The Minister for War. He ‘saw
the light’ all of a sudden in his villa at Dejvice.
The following morning he assembled the garrison
of Prague, talked to them about eternal peace, and
exhorted the troops to become martyrs. Of course
he had to resign at once. The papers stated that
his health had suddenly broken down. And that’s
how matters stand, my friend.”
“In Dejvice already !” groaned the engineer. “It’s
terrible, Bondy, the way it’s spreading.”
“It’s amazing,” said Bondy. “The other day a
Bishop Linda 39
man shifted his piano from the infected Mixa Street
area out to Pankrac. In twenty-four hours the whole
house was down with it.”
Here the Chairman was interrupted. A servant
entered to announce a caller in the person of Bishop
Linda. Marek hurriedly rose to take his leave, but
Bondy forced him to resume his seat, saying, “Just
sit still and say nothing. The Bishop’s really a
charming man.” At that moment the Suffragan
Bishop Linda came into the room.
He was a small, jolly person with gold spectacles
and a comical mouth puckered up in clerical fashion
in pleasant childish folds. Bondy introduced Marek
to him as the owner of the ill-omened cellar at
Brevnov. The Bishop rubbed his hands with delight
while the wrathful engineer spluttered out something
about being “delighted to have the honour,” with a
dogged expression that said clearly, “Confound you
for a canting humbug!” The Bishop pursed his
lips and turned quickly to Bondy.
He began briskly, without beating about the bush.
“I’ve come to you on a very delicate errand. Very
delicate indeed,” he repeated with relish. “We have
been discussing your . . . ahem . . . your
affair in the Consistory. His Eminence, the Arch¬
bishop, wishes to settle this regrettable incident with
as little publicity as possible. You understand. This
objectionable business about the miracles. Oh, I’m
40
The Absolute at Large
sorry. I have no wish to hurt the feelings of Mr.
. . . er . . . the proprietor . .
“Please go on,” Marek conceded gruffly.
“Well, then, in a word, the whole scandal. His
Eminence declares that from the standpoint of both
reason and faith there can be nothing more offen¬
sive than this godless and blasphemous perversion of
the laws of Nature. . . .”
“I beg your pardon!” Marek broke out dis¬
gustedly. “Would you mind leaving the laws of
Nature to us? After all, we don’t interfere with
your dogmas !”
“You are mistaken,” cried the Bishop gaily.
“Quite mistaken. Science without dogma is only a
heap of doubts. What is worse, your Absolute
opposes the laws of the Church. It contradicts the
doctrine of the holy sacraments. It does not regard
the traditions of the Church. It seriously violates
the doctrine of the Trinity. It pays no attention to
the apostolic succession. It does not even submit to
the rites of exorcism. And so on. In short, it
behaves itself in a manner which we must severely
discountenance.”
“Come, come,” suggested Bondy propitiatingly.
“Up to the present its behaviour has been very . . .
dignified.”
The Bishop raised his finger warningly.
4i
Bishop Linda
“Up to the present; but we don’t know how it
will behave next. Look here, Mr. Bondy,” he sud¬
denly said in a confidential tone, “it is to your
interest that there should be no unpleasantness. To
our interest, too. You would like to settle it quickly,
like a practical business man. So should we, as the
representatives and servants of the Lord. We can¬
not permit the rise of some new God or possibly a
new religion.”
“Thank Heaven,” Mr. Bondy sighed with relief.
“I knew we should come to an agreement.”
“Splendid!” cried the Bishop, his eyes sparkling
with happiness through his spectacles. “An agree¬
ment, that’s the thing. The venerable Consistory
decided that in the interests of the Church it would
place your . . . er . . . Absolute provisionally
under its patronage. It would attempt to bring it
into harmony with Catholic doctrine. It would pro¬
claim the premises in Brevnov known as No. 1651
a miraculous shrine and place of pilgrimage. . . .”
“Oho!” growled Marek, and leaped to his feet.
“Permit me,” said the Bishop with an imperious
motion. “A miraculous shrine and place of pilgrim¬
age — with certain conditions, of course. The first
condition is that on the aforesaid premises the pro¬
duction of the Absolute should be limited to the
smallest possible quantity, and that it should be only
42
The Absolute at Large
weak, almost innocuous, very much diluted Absolute,
whose manifestations would be less uncontrollable
and more irregular, rather as at Lourdes. Other¬
wise we cannot assume the responsibility.”
“Very well,” agreed Mr. Bondy. “And what
else?”
“Further,” continued the Bishop, “it is to be
manufactured only from coal obtained at Male
Svantovice. As you know, there is a miraculous
shrine of the Virgin in that district, so that with the
aid of this particular coal we might establish at
No. 1651 Brevnov a centre for the worship of Our
Lady.”
“Undoubtedly,” assented Mr. Bondy. “Any¬
thing more?”
“In the third place, you must bind yourself not
to manufacture the Absolute at any other place or
time.”
“What?” cried G. H. Bondy, “and our Kar-
burators - ”
“ — Will never come into operation, with the
exception of the one at Brevnov, which remains the
property of the Holy Church, and will be under her
management.”
“Nonsense,” protested G. H. Bondy. “The
Karburators shall be manufactured. In three
weeks’ time ten of them will be erected. In the first
six months there will be twelve hundred. In the
Bishop Linda 43
course of a year, ten thousand. Our arrangements
have gone as far as that already.”
“And I tell you,” said the Bishop quietly and
sweetly, “that at the end of that year not a single
Karburator will be running.”
“Why not?”
“Because mankind, whether believers or unbe¬
lievers, cannot do with a real and active God. We
simply cannot, gentlemen. It is out of the question.”
“And I tell you,” Marek interposed vehemently,
“that the Karburator shall be made. I’m in favour
of them myself now. I mean to have them precisely
because you don’t want them. In spite of you, my
Lord Bishop, in spite of all superstition, in spite of
all Rome ! And I mean to be the first to cry” —
here the engineer took breath, then burst out with
unmelodious enthusiam — “Success to the Perfect
Karburator !”
“We shall see,” said the Bishop with a sigh. “You
gentlemen will live to be convinced that the vener¬
able Consistory was right. In a year’s time you will
stop the manufacture of the Absolute of your own
accord. But, oh, the damage, the devastation it
will bring to pass in the meantime! Gentlemen, in
the name of Heaven, do not imagine that the Church
brings God into the world. The Church merely
confines Him and controls Him. And you two
unbelievers are loosing Him upon the earth like a
44 The Absolute at Large
flood. The ship of Peter will survive even this
deluge; like the Ark of Noah, it will ride out this
inundation of the Absolute — but your modern
society,” cried the Bishop with a mighty voice, “that
will pay the price!”
CHAPTER VI
THE BOARD-MEETING
u ENTLEMEn” — it was G. H. Bondy addressing
V_J the meeting of the Board of Directors of
the M.E.C. (the Metallo-Electrical Company) held
on February 20th — “I have to inform you that one
building of our new group of factories at Vysocany
has been completed and began production yesterday.
In a very few days the standardized production of
Karburators will be in full swing, beginning with
eighteen finished machines per day. In April we
expect to turn out sixty-five per day; by the end of
July two hundred per day. We have laid down
fifteen kilometres of private line, chiefly for our coal
supply. Twelve boiler furnaces are now being
erected. We have begun the building of new quar¬
ters for our workmen.”
“Twelve boiler furnaces?” Dr. Hubka, the leader
of the opposition, asked at a venture.
“Yes, twelve for the time being,” confirmed
Bondy.
“That’s strange,” Dr. Hubka declared.
“I ask you, gentlemen,” said Bondy, “what is
45
46 The Absolute at Large
there strange about having twelve boilers? For a
huge group of factories like this . .
“Of course, of course,” came from several
quarters.
Dr. Hubka smiled ironically.
“And why the fifteen kilometres of railway line?”
“For the transport of coal and raw materials.
We are reckoning on a daily consumption of eight
truckloads of coal until we have things properly
under way. I don’t know what Dr. Hubka’s objec¬
tion to our getting coal in can be.”
“I’ll give you my objection,” cried Dr. Hubka,
leaping up. “It’s that the whole business looks
highly suspicious. Yes, gentlemen, extremely sus¬
picious. Mr. Bondy has forced us to erect a factory
for Karburators. The Karburator, he assured us,
is the only power-supply of the future. The Kar¬
burator, as he expressly stated, can develop a thou¬
sand horse-power from a single bucket of coal. And
now he is talking about twelve boiler furnaces and
whole trtickloads of coal for them. Gentlemen, I
ask you, why then shouldn’t a single bucket of coal
give sufficient power for our whole factory? Why
are we erecting boiler furnaces when we’ve got
atomic motors? Gentlemen, if the Karburator is
not an utter swindle, I don’t see why our Chairman
did not arrange for our own new factory to be
equipped to be run by Karburator power. I don’t
47
The Board-Meeting
see it, and no one else will see it. Why hasn’t our
Chairman sufficient confidence in these Karburators
of his to install them in our establishment? Gentle¬
men, it’s shockingly bad advertisement for our Kar¬
burators if their manufacturer himself will not or
cannot use them. I beg you, gentlemen, to ask Mr.
Bondy to give us his reasons. For my part, I have
formed my own opinion. That is all I have to say,
gentlemen.”
Thereupon Dr. Hubka sat down resolutely, and
victoriously blew his nose.
The members of the Board of Directors remained
silent and dejected. Dr. Hubka’s indictment was all
too clear. Bondy did not raise his eyes from his
papers; not a muscle of his face moved.
“M — m no,” growled old Rosenthal, anxious for
peace. “Our Chairman will explain. Yes, yes, it
can all be explained, gentlemen, I think, m — m — er,
yes — very satisfactorily. Dr. Hubka is surely mm —
hm — hm — yes, yes — with regard to what he has
told us.”
The Chairman at last raised his eyes. “Gentle¬
men,” he said quietly, “I have read you the expert
report of our engineers on the Karburator. The
facts are precisely as there stated. The Karburator
is no swindle. We have already built ten of them
for testing purposes. They all work perfectly.
Here are the proofs. Karburator No. i drives the
48
The Absolute at Large
suction pump on the Sazava River, and has been
running without attention for fourteen days. No. 2,
the dredge on the Upper Vltava, is working spen-
didly. No. 3 is in the testing laboratory of the Brno
Technical Institute. No. 4 was damaged in trans¬
port. No. 5 is supplying the city of Hradec Kralove
with light. That is the ten-kilo pattern. The five-
kilo pattern, No. 6, is running a mill at Slany. No.
7 has been installed to provide central heating for
a block of buildings in the New Town. Mr. Machat,
the proprietor of that block, is with us to-day.
Would you mind, Mr. Machat?”
The elderly gentleman of that name awoke as
from a dream. “I beg your pardon?”
‘We were asking how your new central-heating
system is working.”
“What? What heating do you mean?”
“In your new block of buildings,” said Bondy
gently.
“What block of buildings?”
“In your new houses.”
“In my houses? I haven’t any houses.”
“Come, come, come!” Mr. Rosenthal exclaimed.
“You put them up only last year.”
“I did?” said Machat in tones of surprise. “Oh,
yes, you’re right, so I did. But, you see, I have given
those houses away, now. I gave them all away.”
The Board-Meeting 49
Bondy looked at him very attentively. “And to
whom did you give them, Mr. Machat?”
Machat flushed slightly. “Well, to poor people.
I’ve let poor families occupy them. You see, I . . .
I came to the conclusion that . . . well, in short,
poor people have got them now, I mean.”
Mr. Bondy kept his eyes on Machat like an exam¬
ining magistrate. “Why, Mr. Machat?”
“I ... I couldn’t help it,” Machat stammered.
“It took me like that. Our lives should be holy, I
mean.”
The Chairman drummed nervously on the table.
“And what about your family?”
Machat began to smile beatifically. “Oh, we’re
all of the same mind in that matter. Those poor
people are such saints. Some of them are ill. My
daughter is looking after them, you know. We’ve
all changed so tremendously.”
G. H. Bondy dropped his eyes. Machat’s daugh¬
ter Ellen, the fair-haired Ellen, with her seventy
millions, tending the sick! Ellen, who was ready
to be, who ought to be, who had half consented to
be, Mrs. Bondy! Bondy bit his lip; things had
turned out nicely !
“Mr. Machat,” he began, in subdued tones, “I
only wanted to know how the new Karburator was
doing the heating on your premises.”
5° The Absolute at Large
“Oh, splendidly! It’s so beautifully warm in
every one of the houses ! Just as though they were
being warmed with eternal love! Do you know,”
said Machat rapturously, wiping his eyes, “whoever
enters there becomes at one stroke a changed man.
It is like Paradise there. We are all living as if we
were in Heaven. Oh, come and join us !”
“You see, gentlemen,” said Bondy, controlling
himself with an effort, “that the Karburators work
exactly as I promised you they would. I ask you
to waive any further questions.”
“We only want to know,” cried Dr. Hubka pug¬
naciously, “why, in that case, you don’t arrange for
our new works to be run by Karburator power?
Why should we use expensive coal for heating when
we’re supplying atomic energy to other people? Is
Mr. Bondy disposed to let us have his reasons?”
“By no means,” Bondy declared. “Our heating
will be done with coal. For reasons known to my¬
self, the Karburator system will not suit our pur¬
poses. Let that suffice, gentlemen. I regard the
whole affair as a question of confidence in me.”
Machat made himself heard. “If you only knew
how wonderful it feels to be in a state of holiness !
Gentlemen, take my sincere advice. Give away all
that you possess! Become poor and holy! Deliver
yourselves from Mammon, and glorify the one
God!”
5i
The Board-Meeting
“Come, come,” Mr. Rosenthal tried to calm him
down. “We know you for a kind and upright man,
Mr. Machat — yes, yes, extremely so. And I have
every confidence in you, Mr. Bondy, you know. I
tell you what, send me one of those Karburators for
my own heating apparatus! I’ll give it a trial,
gentlemen. What’s the use of all this talking?
What about it, Mr. Bondy?”
“We are all brothers in God’s sight!” continued
the radiant Machat. “Gentlemen, let us give the
factory to the poor! I move that we change the
M.E.C. into a religious community of ‘The Humble
of Heart.’ Let us be the seed from which the tree of
God shall spring. The Kingdom of God on earth!”
“I demand a hearing,” shouted Dr. Hubka.
“Come, now, Mr. Bondy,” pleaded old Rosenthal
in mollifying tones. “You see I am on your side!
Lend me one of those Karburators, Mr. Bondy!”
“For God Himself is descending upon the earth,”
Machat continued in great excitement. “Hearken
to His message : Be ye holy and simple ; open your
hearts to the infinite; let your love be unbounded.
Let me tell you, gentlemen - ”
“I demand the floor,” yelled Dr. Hubka hoarsely.
“Silence !” shouted Bondy, pale and with gleaming
eyes, as he rose with the whole authority of his
massive frame. “Gentlemen, if the factory for Kar¬
burators does not suit your fancy, I will take it over
52
The Absolute at Large
under my own personal charge. I will compensate
you to the last penny for all the expenditure so far
incurred. I resign my position, gentlemen. I beg
to take my leave.”
Dr. Hubka darted forward. “But, gentlemen, I
protest! We all protest! We will not part with
the manufacture of Karburators ! A spendid line
like that, gentlemen ! No, thank you, we are not to
be hoodwinked into handing over a valuable busi¬
ness. With your permission, gentlemen - ”
Bondy rang the bell. “Friends,” he said gloomily,
“we will leave this for the time being. It seems to
me that our friend Machat is . . . er . . .
slightly indisposed. As far as the Karburator is
concerned, gentlemen, I guarantee you a dividend of
one hundred and fifty per cent. I move that the
discussion be now closed.”
Dr. Hubka took the floor. “I move, gentlemen,
that every member of the Board of Directors shall
receive one Karburator for testing purposes, so to
speak.”
Bondy looked at all present. His features
twitched. He tried to say something, but he only
shrugged his shoulders and hissed between his teeth,
“As you please.”
CHAPTER VII
DEVELOPMENTS
«TT ow do we stand in London?”
jL i “M.E.C. shares were quoted at 1470 yes¬
terday. The day before yesterday they were 750.”
“Good!”
“Mr. Marek has been made an honorary member
of ten learned societies, and is certain to be awarded
the Nobel Prize.”
“Good!”
“There’s a rush of orders from Germany. Over
five thousand Karburators wanted.”
“Aha!”
“Nine hundred orders from Japan, too.”
“Look at that now!’
“Czechoslovakia doesn’t show much interest.
Three fresh inquiries.”
“Hm. That’s all one might expect. A wretched
state of affairs here, you know.”
“The Russian Government wants two hundred
immediately.”
“Good! What’s the total?”
“Thirteen thousand orders.”
“Good! How far have we got with the buildings?”
53
54
The Absolute at Large
“The division for atomic motor-cars has got the
roof on. The section for atomic flying-machines
will begin work during the week. We are laying
the foundations for the atomic locomotive works.
One wing of the department for ships’ engines is
already in operation.”
“Wait a minute. You should start calling them
automobiles, atomotors and atomotives, you know.
How is Krolmus getting along with the atomic
cannon?”
“He’s already constructing a model at Pilsen.
Our atomic cyclecar is doing its thirty thousandth
kilometre on the Brussels racing-track. It has done
two hundred and seventy kilometres an hour. We
have had seventeen thousand orders for our half-kilo
atomotors in the last two days.”
“A minute ago you told me that the total was
thirteen thousand.”
“Thirteen thousand stationary atomic boilers.
Eight thousand of the central-heating apparatus.
Nearly ten thousand atomobiles. Sixty hundred and
twenty atoplanes. Our A.7 has flown from Prague
to Melbourne, Australia, without a stop; all on
board safe and sound. Here is the telegram.”
Bondy drew himself up. “Why, my young friend,
that’s splendid!”
“The agricultural machinery department has five
thousand orders in. In the section for small power-
Developments 55
engines, twenty-two thousand. One hundred and
fifty atomic pumps. Three atomic presses. Twelve
atomic blast furnaces. Seventy-five atomic wireless
stations. One hundred and ten atomic locomotives,
all for Russia. We have established general agencies
in forty-eight different capitals. The American
Steel Trust, the Berlin General Electric Company,
the Italian Fiat, Mannesmann, Creusot, and the
Swedish steel-works are all making us offers of
amalgamation. Krupp’s are paying any price for
our shares.”
“What about the new issue?”
“Thirty-five times over-subscribed. The financial
papers predict a super-dividend of two hundred per
cent. The other papers are talking of nothing but
this business; politics, sport, technology, science,
everything’s Karburator. We’ve had seven tons of
newspaper cuttings from our agent in Germany, four
hundredweight from France, and a truckload from
England. The scientific and technical literature
dealing with atomotors, to be published this year,
is estimated at sixty tons. The Anglo-Japanese war
has been broken off owing to the lack of public
interest. In England alone there are nine hundred
thousand coal-miners out of work. There has been
a rising in the Belgian coalfields; about four thou¬
sand killed. More than half the mines in the world
have ceased working. The surplus petroleum in
56 The Absolute at Large
Pennsylvania has set the oil-fields ablaze. The fire’s
still raging.”
“The fire’s still raging,” repeated Bondy, as
though in a dream. “The fire’s still raging. My
God, then, we have won!”
“The Chairman of the Mining and Smelting
Company has shot himself. The Stock Exchange
has simply gone mad. We stand at 8,000 to-day in
Berlin. The Cabinet is in permanent sitting, and
want to proclaim a state of siege. This isn’t an
invention, Chief, it’s a revolution!”
The Chairman and the General Manager of the
M.E.C. looked at each other in silence. Neither of
them was a poet, but in that moment their very souls
were singing.
The manager drew his chair closer and said in a
low voice, “Chief, Rosenthal has gone crazy.”
“Rosenthal!” exclaimed G. H. Bondy.
The manager nodded mournfully. “He has
become an orthodox Jew, and he’s gone in for
Talmudic mysticism and Cabalism. He has given
ten millions to the cause of Zionism. Not long ago
he had a terrible quarrel with Dr. Hubka. You’ve
surely heard that Hubka has joined the Bohemian
Brethren.”
“What, has Hubka got it too?”
“Yes, I think the Board of Directors must have
caught it from Machat. You were not present at
Developments 57
the last meeting, Chief. It was terrible; they talked
religion until morning. Hubka moved that we hand
over our establishments to the workers. Luckily,
they forgot to take a vote on it. They were like
men possessed.”
Bondy gnawed at his fingers. “What on earth
am I to do with them?”
“Hm, nothing whatever. It’s a nervous disease
of the age. Something of the sort crops up now
and again in the papers, too, but they’re so full of
the Karburators that they haven’t space for anything
else. There’s an appalling number of cases of
religious mania. It’s a physicial epidemic or some¬
thing. The other day I saw Dr. Hubka preach¬
ing to a crowd of people in front of the Industrial
Bank about seeking the inward light and making
straight the path for God. Fearfully incoherent
stuff. He wound up by performing miracles.
Forst is at it too. Rosenthal is nothing short of
insane. Miller, Homola and Kolator came out with
a proposal for voluntary poverty. We can’t possibly
have another board-meeting. It’s a regular mad¬
house, Chief. You’ll have to take the whole idiotic
business in hand.”
“But, man, this is simply awful,” groaned G. H.
Bondy.
“It is indeed. Did you hear about the Sugar
Bank? All the officials there were seized with it
s8 The Absolute at Large
at one fell swoop. They opened the safes and gave
away the money to anyone who came. They finished
by burning bundles of banknotes on a bonfire in the
main hall. Religious Bolshevism, I should call it.”
“In the Sugar Bank? . . . Hasn’t the Sugar
Bank one of our Karburators?”
“Yes. For central heating. The Sugar Bank
was the first to install one. Now the police have
closed the Bank. Even the confidential clerks and
the directors were affected.”
“Send word round that the sale of Karburators
to banks is forbidden.”
“But why?”
“I forbid it, and that’s enough! Let them do
their heating with coal!”
“It’s a bit too late. All the banks are already
putting in our heating system. It’s being installed
in the Houses of Parliament and in all the Govern¬
ment departments. The central Karburator at
Stvanice, which is to light the whole of Prague, is
finished. It is a fifty-kilo monster, a magnificent
machine. It is to be ceremoniously set in motion at
six o’clock the day after to-morrow, in the presence
of the President, the Burgomaster, the City Council,
and the representatives of the M. E. C. You must
be present. You of all people!”
“God forbid!” Mr. Bondy shouted, horror-
Developments 59
stricken. “No, no, Heaven defend me from that!
I will not go !”
“But, Chief, you must. We can’t send Rosenthal
or Hubka there. Why, they’re raving mad. They
would make dreadful speeches. It’s the honour of
the firm that’s at stake. The Burgomaster of
Prague has prepared a speech in our honour. The
representatives of foreign Governments and the
foreign Press will be there. It’s to be a great
occasion. As soon as the street lamps light up,
military bands are going to play salutes and fanfares
in the streets, the Male Voice Choirs and the other
Choral Societies will sing, there’ll be fireworks and
a salute of a hundred and one guns, the Castle will
be illuminated, and I don’t know what. Chief, you
simply must be there.”
G. H. Bondy arose in great torment of spirit.
“God! oh God I” he whispered, “if it be possible,
remove this cup. . . .”
“Will you be there?” repeated the manager
inexorably.
“God! oh God! why hast Thou forsaken me?”
CHAPTER VIII
THE DREDGE
TflE dredge M. E. 28 stood motionless in the
evening twilight above Stechovice. The
Paternoster shovel had long since ceased heaving up
the cold sand from the bed of the Vltava River.
The evening was mild and calm, fragrant with new-
mown hay and the breath of the woodlands. A
tender orange glow still lingered in the north-west.
Here and there a wave glittered with unearthly
splendour amid the reflections of the sky — gleamed,
murmured and blent itself with the shining surface
of the stream. A skiff was coming towards the
dredge from Stechovice. It made slow progress
against the rapid current, and stood out upon the
glowing river like a black water-beetle.
“Someone is coming over to see us,” Kuzenda, the
skipper, said quietly, from his seat in the rear of the
dredge.
“Two of ’em,” said Brych, the stoker, after a
pause.
“Yes, and I know who it is, too,” said Kuzenda.
60
6 1
The Dredge
“The sweethearts from Stechovice,” said Brych.
“I’d better make them some coffee,” Kuzenda
decided, and went below.
“Now then, youngsters,” Brych shouted to the
boat. “To the left! Left! Give us your hand,
lass. There we are. Up she comes!”
“Me and Joe,” the girl announced on reaching
the deck, “we — we’d like to - ”
“Good evening,” said the young workman who
climbed up after her. “Where is Mr. Kuzenda?”
“Mr. Kuzenda is making coffee,” said the stoker.
“Take a seat. Look, there’s someone else coming
across. Is that you, baker?”
“That’s me,” a voice rang back. “Good evening,
Mr. Brych. I’ve got the postman and the game-
keeper with me.”
“Come up then, brothers,” said Mr. Brych. “We
can begin while Mr. Kuzenda is getting the coffee
ready. Who else is coming?”
“I am,” came a voice from the side of the dredge.
“My name’s Hudec, and I’d very much like to hear
you.”
“You are very welcome, Mr. Hudec,” the stoker
shouted down. “Come up, will you? — there’s a
ladder here. Half a minute and I’ll give you a
hand, Mr. Hudec, seeing you’ve never been here
before.”
“Mr. Brych,” three people shouted from the bank.
6 2
The Absolute at Large
“Send the boat across for us, will you? We’d like
to come over.”
“Go and fetch them over, you below,” said Mr.
Brych, “that all may hear the word of God.
Brothers and sister, please sit down. It’s not dirty
here now that we do our heating with a Karburator.
Brother Kuzenda will bring you some coffee, and
then we can start. Welcome, young people. Come
right up.” With this Mr. Brych took his place by
the opening down which ran the ladder to the inte¬
rior of the dredge. “Halloa there, Kuzenda, ten
on deck.”
“Right!” cried a beard-muffled voice from the
depths. “I’m just bringing it.”
“Come, friends, sit down,” said Brych, briskly
indicating suitable seats. “Mr. Hudec, we have
nothing but coffee here; I don’t expect you’ll mind.”
“Why should I?” returned Mr. Hudec. “I just
wanted to see your — to be present at your — seance.”
“Our service,” Brych mildly corrected him. “We
are all brothers, here, you know. Let me tell you,
Mr. Hudec, that I was a drunkard and Kuzenda was
in politics, and the grace of God came upon us, and
our brethren and sisters here,” he said pointing
round him, “come to us in the evenings to pray for
the same gift of the spirit. The baker here had
asthma, and Kuzenda cured him. Come now, baker,
tell us yourself how it happened.”
63
The Dredge
“Kuzenda laid hands on me,” said the baker softly
and rapturously, “and all at once such a feeling of
warmth began to pour through my chest. You know,
something just snapped in me, and I began to breathe
as if I was flying about in the sky.”
“Wait a bit, baker,” Brych corrected him.
“Kuzenda didn’t lay his hands on you. He hadn’t
any notion he was going to work a miracle. He
simply went like this with his hand, and then you said
that you could breathe easily. That’s the way it
was.”
“We were there when it happened,” said the
young girl from Stechovice. “And the baker had a
ring of light around his head, and then Mr. Kuzenda
charmed away my consumption, didn’t he, Joe?”
The young fellow from Stechovic said, “That’s
the honest truth, Mr. Hudec. But what happened
to me is queerer still. I wasn’t straight, Mr. Hudec;
I’d already been in jail for theft, and for another
job besides. Mr. Brych here could tell you.”
“Oh, it wasn’t as bad as all that.” Mr. Brych
dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “All that you
needed was grace. But there’s some very queer
things happen here, Mr. Hudec, on this spot. But
perhaps you will find it out for yourself. Brother
Kuzenda can give it you properly because he used
to go to meetings before. Look, here he comes.”
Everyone turned towards the opening leading
64
The Absolute at Large
from the deck to the engine-room. From the open¬
ing there emerged a bearded face, wearing the
forced, embarrassed smile of one who is being shoved
from behind and is trying to pretend that nothing is
happening. Mr. Kuzenda was visible now from the
waist up, carrying in both hands a large tin tray on
which stood cups and tins of preserves; he smiled
uncertainly as he rose higher and higher. His feet
could soon be seen on a level with the deck, and
still Mr. Kuzenda and his cups went on rising in
the air. About eighteen inches above the opening he
stopped and began groping with his feet. There he
hung unsupported in the air, apparently doing his
utmost to get his feet to the ground.
Mr. Hudec was like a man in a dream. “What is
the matter, Mr. Kuzenda?” he exclaimed, almost in
terror.
“Nothing, nothing,” Kuzenda replied evasively,
still trying to draw himself down from the air with
his feet; and Mr. Hudec was reminded of a picture
of the Ascension that in his childhood had hung
above his little cot, and how Our Lord and the
Apostles in precisely the same manner were hanging
in the air and paddling with their feet, but showing
less amazement on their faces.
Suddenly Mr. Kuzenda moved forward and
floated, floated over the deck through the evening
air as though a gentle breeze might carry him away;
65
The Dredge
now and again he raised his feet as if he wanted to
step out firmly or something, and he was visibly
concerned for his cups.
“I say, come and take this coffee,” he said hastily.
Brych, the stoker, held both hands up to him and
took charge of the tray and the cups. Then Kuzenda
let his feet hang down, crossed his arms on his
breast, and hung there motionless, with his head a
little on one side, and said, “Welcome, brothers.
Don’t be afraid because I’m flying. It is only a
sign. Will you take the cup with the flowers on,
young lady.”
The stoker passed the cups and tins round. No
one dared to speak. Those who had never been
there before gazed in wonder on the levitation of
Kuzenda. The guests of longer standing sipped
their coffee slowly, and seemed, between the sips, to
be praying.
“Have you finished?” asked Kuzenda after a
while, opening wide his colourless, rapt eyes. “Then
I’ll begin.” So saying, he cleared his throat, medi¬
tated for a while, and began: “In the name of the
Father! Brethren and sisters, on this dredge, where
signs of grace are shown to us, we are gathered
together for worship. We need not send away the
unbelievers and mockers as the spiritualists do. Mr.
Hudec came as an unbeliever, and the gamekeeper
has been looking forward to a little bit of fun. You
66
The Absolute at Large
are both welcome; but listen so that you may see
that it is by grace I know you. You, gamekeeper,
drink far too much; you drive the poor from the
forest, and curse and swear even when there is no
need. Do it no more. And you, Mr. Hudec, are
a better-class thief. You know very well what I
mean. And you’re shockingly bad-tempered. Faith
will reform and redeem you.”
Utter stillness reigned on the deck. Mr. Hudec
gazed steadfastly at the floor. The gamekeeper
sobbed and sniffed, and fumbled with trembling
hands for his pocket.
“I know what it is, gamekeeper,” said Kuzenda
gently from above. “You’d like to smoke. Don’t
be afraid to light up. Make yourself quite at
home.”
“Look at the little fish,” whispered the young girl,
pointing down to the smooth surface of the Vltava.
“Look, Joe, the carp have come to listen, too.”
“They’re not carp,” came from the exalted
Kuzenda. “They’re perch or dace. And, Mr.
Hudec, you mustn’t worry about your sins. Look
at me : I once cared for nothing but politics. And
I tell you, that, too, is a sin. There’s no need to
weep, gamekeeper; I didn’t mean to be hard on you.
He who once experiences grace can see right into
men’s hearts. You can see into people’s souls too,
can’t you, Brych?”
The Dredge 67
“I can,” said Mr. Brych. “The postman here is
thinking this minute how fine it would be if you
could help his little daughter. She’s got scrofula,
hasn’t she, postman? Mr. Kuzenda will help her
right enough if you bring her here.”
“It’s easy to mock and talk about superstition,”
said Kuzenda. “Brothers, if anyone had told me
about miracles and God before this, I should have
laughed at him. That’s the kind of man I was.
When we got this new machine that runs without
fuel for the dredge, all our dirty heavy work ceased.
Yes, Mr. Hudec, that was the first miracle that
happened here — this Karburator, that does every¬
thing by itself, as though it had a mind. Even the
dredge floats by itself wherever it ought to go. And
look how steady it is. Do you notice, Mr. Hudec,
that the anchors aren’t down? It stands still without
being anchored, and floats off again when it’s needed
to clear the river-bed; it starts itself and stops itself.
We, that’s Brych and me, don’t have to touch a
single thing. Will anyone dare tell me that isn’t a
miracle? And when we saw all this, we began to
think it over, didn’t we, Brych, until it all became
clear to us. This is a sacred dredge, it is an iron
church, and we are only here as its priests. If in
old times God could appear in a well or in an oak-
tree, and sometimes even like a woman, as with the
ancient Greeks, why should He not appear on a
68
The Absolute at Large
dredge? Why should He shun machinery? A
machine is often cleaner than a nun, and Brych keeps
everything here as bright and shining as if it was on
a sideboard. However, that’s by the way. And
let me tell you, God is not so infinite as the Catholics
assert. He is about six hundred metres in diameter,
and even then is weak towards the edges. He is at
His strongest on the dredge. Here He performs
miracles, but on the bank He only does inspirations
and conversions, and in Stechovice, with a favour¬
able wind, you only notice a kind of holy fragrance.
Not long ago some oarsmen from the Czech Rowing
Club were paddling by in the Lightning, close to us,
and grace descended on all of them. Such is His
power. And what this God wishes us to do, one can
only feel here within,” Kuzenda declared, with an
emphatic gesture towards his heart. “I know that
He cannot bear politics and money, intellect, pride,
and self-conceit. I know He dearly loves both men
and beasts, that He is very glad when you come
here, and that good deeds are pleasing to Him. He
is a thorough democrat, brethren. We, Brych and
me, that is, feel that every penny burns us until
we’ve bought coffee for everybody. One Sunday
recently, there were several hundred people here,
even sitting on both banks of the river, and behold,
our coffee multiplied itself so that there was enough
for everybody . . . and what splendid coffee it
69
The Dredge
was! But such things, brethren, are only outward
appearances. The greatest miracle is the influence
He has on our feelings. It is so intensely beautiful
that it fairly makes one shiver. Sometimes you feel
as if you could die of love and happiness, as if you
were one with the water below, with all the animals,
with the very earth and stones, or as if gigantic
arms were holding you embraced; oh, words cannot
utter what you feel. Everything around you is
sounding and singing, you understand the speech of
voiceless things, the water and the wind, you see
deep into everything, how one thing is linked with
another and with you ; at one stroke you grasp every¬
thing better than if you had read it in print. Some¬
times it comes upon one like a fit, so that one foams
at the mouth; but often it acts quite slowly and
penetrates to one’s tiniest little vein. And now,
brothers and sisters, do not be afraid; two police
officers are just coming across in a boat to ‘disperse’
us because we are holding an unauthorized assembly.
Just keep calm and have faith in the God of the
dredge.”
It was already dark; but the entire deck of the
dredge and the faces of those present were glowing
with a tender light. The splash of oars was heard
below the dredge, then the boat stopped alongside.
“Hi, there !” cried a man’s voice. “Is Mr. Kuzenda
there?”
70
The Absolute at Large
“Yes, he is here,” answered Kuzenda in the voice
of an angel. “Come right up, brethren of the police.
I know that the innkeeper of Stechovice has laid
information against me.”
Two policemen mounted to the deck. “Which
of you is Kuzenda?” asked the sergeant.
“I am, sir,” said Kuzenda, rising higher in the
air. “Kindly come up here to me, sergeant.” And
forthwith both police officers rose into the air and
floated upwards towards Kuzenda. Their feet
groped desperately for some support, their hands
clutched wildly at the yielding air, and one could
hear their quick and frightened breathing.
“Don’t be afraid, officers,” said Kuzenda beatifi-
cally, “and say after me this prayer: O God, our
Father, who are incarnate in this vessel . . .”
“O God, our Father, who are incarnate in this
vessel,” repeated the sergeant in choking voice.
“O God, our Father, who are incarnate in this
vessel,” Mr. Hudec began in a loud voice, and he
fell on his knees, and on the deck a chorus of voices
mingled with his own.
CHAPTER IX
THE CEREMONY
Cyril Keval, district reporter on the staff of
the Prague People’s Journal, hurried into eve¬
ning-dress for the occasion and dashed off to Stvanice
just after six o’clock in the evening, to write up the
ceremonial opening of the new Central Karburator
Electric Power Station for Greater Prague. He
shouldered his way through the curious crowds that
overflowed the whole Petrov quarter, penetrated
the three ranks of police, and reached a small con¬
crete structure decorated with flags. From inside
the little building could be heard the objurgations of
the workmen, who were, of course, behind time with
the erecting of the machine, and were now trying to
catch up. The whole Central Power Station was
an insignificant affair, no bigger than a public con¬
venience. Old Cvancara of the Venkov was walking
pensively up and down in front of it, looking some¬
what like a meditative heron.
“Well, my friend,” he said quietly to the young
journalist, “it’s safe to bet on something happening
to-day. I’ve never yet seen a function where there
7i
72
The Absolute at Large
wasn’t some silly incident or other. And I’ve been
at it now, young fellow, for forty years.”
“But it is amazing, isn’t it, sir?” Keval returned.
“Fancy this little building lighting the whole city of
Prague and driving the trams and trains for sixty
kilometres round, besides supplying power for thou¬
sands of factories and — and - ”
Mr. Cvancara shook his head sceptically. “We’ll
see, my young friend, we’ll see. Nothing nowadays
can surprise any of us of the old guard, but” — and
here Cvancara lowered his voice to a whisper —
“well, just look round and you’ll see that they haven’t
even got a reserve Karburator handy. Suppose this
one broke down, or even, say, went up in the air,
what then — do you see what I mean?”
Keval was annoyed at not having thought of this
himself, so he dissented. “That’s out of the ques¬
tion, sir,” he began. “I have reliable information.
This power station here is only for show. The real
Central Station is somewhere else; it’s . . . it’s
. . .” he whispered, and pointed with his finger,
“right down underground, I mustn’t say where.
Haven’t you noticed, sir, that they are continually
repairing the streets in Prague?”
“They’ve been doing it these forty years,” said
Mr. Cvancara gloomily.
“Well, there you have it,” Keval lied trium¬
phantly. “Military reasons, you know. A huge sys-
73
The Ceremony
tem of underground passages, storehouses, powder-
magazines, and so on. My information is quite
trustworthy. They’ve got sixteen underground
Karburator fortresses right round Prague. On the
surface there’s not a trace of it, only football fields,
a mineral-water stand, or a patriotic monument.
Ha, ha! Do you see now? That’s why they’re
putting up all these memorials.”
“Young man,” observed Mr. Cvancara, “what
does the present generation know of war? We
could tell them something. Aha, here comes the
Burgomaster.”
“And the new Minister for War. You see, I told
you so. The Director of the Technical Institute.
The Chairman of the M.E.C. The Chief Rabbi.”
“The French Ambassador, the Minister of
Public Works. I say, my friend, we’d better see
about getting inside. The Archbishop, the Italian
Ambassador, the President of the Senate, the Chief
of the Sokol organization; you’ll find that there’s
somebody they’ve left out.”
Just then Mr. Cyril Keval gave up his place to a
lady, and so was separated from the doyen of the
journalists and lost his place near the entrance
through which the endless stream of the personages
invited was pouring. Then the strains of the
national anthem were heard, and the orders to the
guard of honour rang out, proclaiming the arrival
74
The Absolute at Large
of the Chief of State. Accompanied by a retinue of
gentlemen in top-hats and uniforms, the President
advanced along the crimson carpet towards the little
concrete structure. Mr. Keval stood on tiptoe, con¬
founding himself and his politeness.
“I’ll never get in now,” he said to himself.
“Cvancara is right,” he went on ruminating. “They
always do something silly. Fancy putting up that
little hut for an imposing ceremony like this. Ah
well, the Czechoslovak Press Bureau will supply
the speeches, and one can soon work up the trim¬
mings — deep impressiveness of the occasion,
magnificent progress, enthusiastic reception for the
President - ”
A sudden hush within the building made itself felt
outside, and someone began to reel off the official
address. Mr. Keval yawned and sauntered round
the little building with his hands in his pockets. It
was getting dark. The guards were in full-dress
uniform with white gloves and rubber truncheons.
Crowds of people were standing tightly packed
along the banks. The opening address was far too
long, as usual. Who was it speaking, anyway?
Then Keval noticed a little window in the concrete
wall of the Central Station about two metres from
the ground. He looked around, then leapt up like a
flash, caught hold of the grating, and drew his clever
head up to the window. Aha, the speaker was the
Burgomaster of Greater Prague, all red in the face;
75
The Ceremony
beside him stood G. H. Bondy, Chairman of the
representing the contracting firm, biting his
lips. The President had his hand on the lever of the
machine, ready to press it down at a given signal:
an instant later the festal illuminations of the whole
of Prague would flare out, the bands would play,
the fireworks would begin to blaze.
The Minister of Public Works was turning and
twisting nervously; doubtless he was to speak when
the Burgomaster had finished. A young Army
officer was pulling at his tiny moustache, the
Ambassadors were pretending to be giving their
whole souls to the address, of which they understood
not a single word, two Trade Union delegates were
not moving an eyelash — in short, “the proceedings
passed off without a hitch,” Mr. Keval said to him¬
self as he jumped down again.
He then ran five times round the whole Stvanice
district, came back to the Central Power Station,
and again sprang up to the little window. The
Burgomaster was still speaking. Straining his ears,
Keval could hear “. . . And then came the disas¬
trous period of the Battle of the White Mountain.”
He dropped down the wall again quickly, sat down,
and lit a cigar. It was already very dark. Over¬
head the little stars twinkled through the branches
of the trees. “It’s surprising that they didn’t wait
until the President pressed the lever to light up
too,” Keval said to himself. Otherwise, Prague was
76 The Absolute at Large
in darkness. The black stream of the Vltava rolled
on without a lamp reflected in its waters. Every¬
thing quivered with expectation of the solemn
moment that was to bring the light.
When Keval had finished his cigar, he went back
to the Power Station and once more hoisted himself
up to the little window. The Burgomaster was still
talking, and his face was now of a purple bordering
on blackness. The Chief of State was standing
with his hand on the lever, the personages present
were talking together in low tones, only the foreign
Ambassadors listened on unmoving. At the very
back, the head of Mr. Cvancara could be seen
nodding drowsily.
Sheer physical exhaustion brought the Burgo¬
master to an end, and the Minister of Public Works
began speaking. He was obviously cutting his
sentences down unmercifully to shorten his address.
The Chief of State was now holding the lever in his
left hand. Old Billington, the doyen of the Diplo¬
matic Corps, had passed away on his feet, preserving
even in death the expression of an attentive listener.
Then the Minister put an end to his speech as
though with an axe.
G. H. Bondy raised his head, looked about with
heavy eyes, and said a few words, apparently some¬
thing to the effect that the M.E.C. was handing over
its work to the public for the use and benefit of our
metropolis, and so concluded. The Chief of State
77
The Ceremony
drew himself erect and pressed the lever. Then, in
an instant, the whole of Prague shone out as a vast
expanse of light, the crowds cheered, the bells in all
the steeples began to swing, and from the Marianske
fort there sounded the first boom of the cannon.
Still hanging to his grating, Keval looked around
towards the city. Flaming rockets shot up from
Strelecky Island; Hradcany, Petrin, and even Letna,
were aglow with garlands of electric lamps, distant
bands began competing with each other, illuminated
biplanes circled above Stvanice, while the immense
V 1 6 soared up from Vysehrad all bedecked with
lanterns. The crowds removed their hats, the police
stood like statues, their hands raised to their helmets
in salute. Two batteries boomed out from the
bastions, answered by the monitors from near
Karlin.
Keval again pressed his face to the bars to see
the conclusion of the ceremonies over the Karburator
taking place inside. The next instant he uttered a
hoarse cry, rolled his eyes, and once more squeezed
himself still closer to the window. Then he uttered
something like “Oh, God!”, loosened his hold on
the grating, and dropped heavily to the earth.
Before he had actually reached the ground, someone
rushing away from the place knocked into him.
Keval seized him by the coat, and the man looked
round. It was G. H. Bondy; he was as pale as
death.
78
The Absolute at Large
“What has happened, sir?” Keval stammered.
“What are they doing in there?”
“Let go of me,” Bondy panted. “For Christ’s
sake, let go. And get out of here, as quick as
you can.”
“But what has happened to them in there?”
“Let me go,” shouted Bondy; and knocking
Keval back with his fist, he disappeared among the
trees.
Trembling all over, Keval supported himself
against the trunk of a tree. From the interior of
the concrete building came sounds as of savages
chanting a hymn.
A few days later the Czechoslovak Press Bureau
published the following obscure statement:
Contrary to the reports issued by a local publication which
have obtained some currency abroad, we are able to state on
the very best authority that no improper incidents of any
kind took place on the occasion of the formal opening of the
Karburator Central Power Station. In connection with this,
the Burgomaster of Greater Prague has resigned his office
and has gone into the country to recuperate. Mr. Billington,
doyen of the Diplomatic Corps, is, contrary to published
reports, well and active. The fact is that all present declare
that nothing in their experience has ever made so powerful
an impression upon them. Every citizen has the right to
fall to the earth and worship God, and the performance of
miracles is not in conflict with any official position whatever
in a democratic State. It is in any case decidedly improper
to connect the Chief of State with regrettable incidents
occasioned only by insufficient ventilation, combined with
excessive strain upon the nerves.
CHAPTER X
SAINT ELLEN
FEW days after these occurrences G. H. Bondy
jL was wandering through the streets of Prague,
a cigar between his teeth, thinking things over. Any¬
one who met him would have thought that he was
looking at the pavement; but Mr. Bondy was really
looking into the future. “Marek was right,” he
was saying to himself, “Bishop Linda even more so.
It was simply impossible to bring God to earth with¬
out a confounded lot coming of it. People could
do what they liked, but it was going to shake the
banks and do goodness knows what with industry.
A religious strike broke out at the Industrial Bank
to-day. We installed a Karburator there, and within
two days the officials declared the bank’s property
to be a sacred trust for the poor. That couldn’t
have happened when Preis was manager. No, it
certainly would never have happened.”
Bondy sucked at his cigar in great depression.
“Well, what about it?” he said to himself. “Are we
to throw the whole thing up ? Orders worth twenty-
three millions came in to-day. It can’t be stopped
now. It means the end of the world, or something.
79
8o
The Absolute at Large
In two years’ time everything will have come down
crash. There are several thousand Karburators
at work in the world already, every one of them
pouring forth the Absolute day and night. And
this Absolute is fiendishly clever, too. It has an
insane desire to exert itself, no matter how. There
you are, it hasn’t anything to do, for thousands of
years it’s had nothing to do, and now we’ve let it
off the chain. Just look at what it’s doing at the
Industrial Bank, for instance. It keeps the bank’s
books all on its own, does the accounts, carries on
the correspondence. It gives orders to the Board
of Directors in writing. It sends its clients fervent
epistles about showing love by works. What’s the
result? The Industrial Bank shares are mere waste
paper: it would take a kilo of them to buy a bit of
cheese. That’s what happens when God starts med¬
dling with banking.
“The Oberlander firm, a textile factory in Upice,
is bombarding us with despairing! telegrams. A
month ago they put in a Karburator in place of a
boiler. Splendid, the machines are going strong:
all’s well. But suddenly the spinning-jennies and
looms begin to work all by themselves. When a
thread breaks, it simply splices itself again, and on
they go. The workmen just look on with their hands
in their pockets. They’re supposed to knock off at
six o’clock. The spinners and weavers go home.
8i
Saint Ellen
But the looms go running on by themselves. They
go on running all night and all day, for three whole
weeks, weaving, weaving, weaving without a pause.
The firm wires us: ‘In the devil’s name, take the
finished goods off us, send us raw material, stop the
machines 1’ And now it has got hold of the factory
of Buxbaum Brothers, Morawetz and Co., by sheer
long-range infection. There are no raw materials
in the place. They lose their heads and fling rags,
straw, earth, whatever comes handy, into the
machines; well, even that stuff, if you please, gets
woven into kilometres of towels, calico, cretonne,
and everything imaginable. There’s a terrific up¬
heaval; the prices of textiles are coming down with
a crash; England is raising her protective tariff; and
our neighbouring states are threatening us with a
boycott. And the factories are wailing, ‘For the
love of Heaven, take the finished goods away at
least. Cart them away; send us men, lorries, motor
trains; stop the machines !’ In the meantime, they’re
suing us for damages. A damnable life! And we
hear the same thing from all sides, from everywhere
where a Karburator has been installed.
“The Absolute wants work. It clings furiously
to life. Once it created the earth ! now it has flung
itself into manufacture. It has captured Liberec
and the Brno cotton works, Trutnov, twenty sugar
factories, sawmills, the City Brewery in Pilsen; it
82
The Absolute at Large
is threatening the Skoda arsenal; it is busy at Jab-
lonec and in the Jachymov mines. In many places
people are dismissing their workmen; in others
they’ve taken fright, closed the factories, and are
just letting the machine go ahead inside. It’s insane
over-production. Factories that haven’t got the
Absolute are stopping production altogether. It’s
ruin.
“And I,” said Mr. Bondy to himself, “am a
patriot. I will not let our country be brought to
ruin. Besides, there are our own establishments
here. Very well, from to-day onward we will cancel
all orders from Czechoslovakia. What has been
done is done; but from this moment not a single
Karburator shall be set up in the land of the Czechs.
We’ll flood the Germans and the French with them;
then we’ll bombard England with the Absolute.
England is conservative, and won’t have anything
to do with our Karburators. Well, we’ll drop them
on her from airships like big bombs. We’ll infect
the whole industrial and financial world with God,
and preserve only our own country as an island of
civilization and honest labour free from God. It
is a patriotic duty, so to speak, and besides, we have
our own factories to consider.”
The prospect gladdened G. H. Bondy’s heart.
“At any rate we’ll gain time to invent some sort
of protective mask against the Absolute. Damn it,
Saint Ellen 83
I’ll set aside three millions myself for purposes of
research into protective measures against God.
Better say two millions to start with. All the Czechs
will go about wearing their masks, while all the rest
— ha ! ha ! — will be getting drowned in the Absolute.
At any rate their industries will go under.”
Mr. Bondy began to look upon the world less
darkly. “There’s a young woman going by. Nice
springy walk. I wonder what she looks like from the
front.” Mr. Bondy quickened his step, passed her,
suddenly stepped respectfully to one side, then
seemed to change his mind again, and turned on his
heel so abruptly that he almost ran right into her.
“You, Ellen,” he said hastily. “I had no idea,
that — that - ”
“I knew that you were following me,” said the
girl standing still with downcast eyes.
“You knew it?” said Bondy, greatly pleased. “I
was just thinking about you.”
“I could feel your bestial desires,” said Ellen
quietly.
“My what?”
“Your bestial desires. You did not recognize
me. You only appraised me with your eyes as if
I were for sale.”
G. H. Bondy frowned. “Ellen, why do you wish
to hurt my feelings?”
Ellen shook her head. “They all do it. They’re
84
The Absolute at Large
all alike, every one of them. One rarely meets a
look that is pure.”
Mr. Bondy pursed his lips for a whistle. Aha, so
that’s what it is! Old Machat’s religious com¬
munity !
“Yes,” Ellen replied to his thoughts. “You ought
to come and join us.”
“Oh, of course,” cried Mr. Bondy; and in his
mind he said, “A nice girl like this! It’s a shame.”
“Why is it a shame?” asked Ellen gently.
“Oh, come, Ellen,” protested Bondy. “You are
a thought-reader. That isn’t fair. If people were
to read each other’s thoughts they could never
decently associate with one another. It’s very indis¬
creet of you to know what I am thinking.”
“What am I to do?” said Ellen. “Everyone who
knows God has this same gift. Every one of your
thoughts is born in my mind as soon as in yours. I
don’t read it, I have it myself. If you only knew how
purifying it is when one can judge of every hidden
baseness !”
“Hm,” muttered Mr. Bondy, trembling lest any¬
thing should cross his mind.
“It is indeed,” Ellen assured him. “It has cured
me, with the help of God, of the love of riches. I
should be ever so glad if the scales were to fall from
your eyes, too.”
“God forbid,” exclaimed G. H. Bondy, horrified.
Saint Ellen 85
“But tell me, do you understand everything that you
. . . er . . . see in people like this?”
“Yes, perfectly.”
“Then listen to me, Ellen,” said Bondy. “I can
tell you everything, for you’d read it in me in any
case. I could never marry a woman who would be
able to read my thoughts. She could be religious to
her heart’s content, boundlessly charitable to the
poor; I’m able to afford it, and besides, it’s good
publicity. I’d put up even with virtue, Ellen, for
love of you. I’d put up with anything. I have loved
you after my fashion, Ellen. I can tell you so
because you can read it for yourself. But, Ellen,
neither business nor society is possible without
thoughts that are not disclosed. And marriage,
above all things, is impossible without thoughts that
are not disclosed. It is unthinkable, Ellen. And
even if you find the holiest of men, don’t marry him
as long as you can read his thoughts. A little illusion
is the only bond between mortals that never breaks.
Saint Ellen, you must not marry.”
“Why not?” said Saint Ellen in soft tones. “Our
God is not opposed to nature; He only sanctifies it.
He does not ask us to mortify ourselves. He bids us
live and be fruitful. He wants us to . . .”
“Stop,” Mr. Bondy interrupted her. “Your God
doesn’t understand. If He takes away our illusions
He is doing something confoundly opposed to
86
The Absolute at Large
nature. He’s simply impossible, Ellen, utterly im¬
possible. If He were a reasonable being, He would
realize it. He’s either wholly inexperienced or else
completely and criminally destructive. It’s a great
pity, Ellen. I haven’t anything against religion, but
this God doesn’t know what He ought to want.
Depart into the wilderness, Saint Ellen, with your
second sight. You are out of place among us mor¬
tals. Farewell, Ellen; or rather — good-bye for
ever.
CHAPTER XI
THE FIRST BLOW STRUCK
Exactly how it happened has not yet been estab¬
lished, but just at the very time when the
little factory belonging to R. Marek, Engineer, 1651
Mixa Street, Brevnov, was garrisoned by detectives
and surrounded by a cordon of police, unknown
malefactors stole the original Marek Karburator.
Despite the most active search, not a trace of the
stolen machine was found.
Not long afterwards Jan Binder, the proprietor
of a merry-go-round, was looking round the premises
of a dealer in old iron in Hastal Square with a view
to purchasing a little naphtha motor to run his round¬
about and its orchestrion. The dealer offered him a
big copper cylinder with a piston, and said it was
a very economical motor; all one had to do was to
shovel in a little coal, and it would run for months.
Jan Binder was seized with a strange, almost blind
faith in the copper cylinder, and he bought it for
three hundred crowns. Then he hauled it away on
a truck with his own hands to his merry-go-round,
which was standing out of action near Zlichov.
87
88
The Absolute at Large
Jan Binder took off his coat, unloaded the copper
cylinder from the cart, and set to work whistling
softly. He fixed a wheel on the axle where the fly¬
wheel used to be, and ran a belt over this wheel to
another axle which drove the orchestrion with one
end and the merry-go-round with the other. Then
he oiled the bearings, put them into a wheel, and
stood there, in his broad-striped jersey, with his
hands in his pockets, puckering his lips for a whistle
and waiting pensively to see what would happen next.
The wheel went round three times, then stopped;
presently it quivered, wobbled, and then began to
turn quietly and smoothly. Then the orchestrion
started with all its little drums and whistles, the
merry-go-round gave itself a shake as if waking from
sleep, creaked in all its joints, and began glidingly to
revolve. The silver fringes gleamed, the white
steeds with their showy trappings and red bridles
seemed to set in motion their princely equipages, the
deer with its wildly staring eyes swept round, poised
as for a leap, the swans with their elegantly arching
necks drew in a circle their white and sky-blue vessels ;
and so all a-glitter, and to the accompaniment of
blaring music, the merry-go-round rotated its splen¬
dours before the unwinking eyes of the Three Graces
painted on the orchestrion, now carried away on the
rush of its own melodies.
Jan Binder still stood there with his lips pursed
89
The First Blow Struck
and his hands in his pockets. He gazed upon his
merry-go-round as though in a dream, seemingly
entranced by something new and lovely. By this
time he was no longer alone. A tear-stained dirty
child dragged its young nurse up to the merry-go-
round and stopped in front of it with great round
eyes and mouth wide open, rigid with wonderment.
The little nurse, too, opened wide her eyes and stood
there like one enraptured. The merry-go-round per¬
formed its circuit with a strange resplendence, sub¬
limity, stateliness, like a festal day . . . now
whirling round with an impassioned velocity, now
rocking gently like a vessel laden with the rich per¬
fumes of India, now floating like a golden cloud high
in the heavens; it seemed to soar upwards, sundered
from the earth, it seemed to sing. But no, it was the
orchestrion that was singing; now with the joyous
voices of women mingling with a silvery rain of
music falling from harps; and now it was the roar
of a forest or a great organ, but from the depths of
the forest birds fluted their songs and came and
settled on your shoulders. Golden trumpets pro¬
claimed the coming of a conqueror or, it might be, a
whole army with flashing fiery swords. And who
was it singing that glorious hymn? Thousands of
people were waving branches of palm, the heavens
opened, and, heralded by rolling drums, the song of
God Himself descended upon the earth.
9o
The Absolute at Large
Jan Binder raised his hand, but at that moment
the merry-go-round stopped and leaned towards the
little child. The child tripped on to the merry-go-
round as if it were entering the open gates of Para¬
dise, and the nursemaid followed as though in a
trance and seated it in one of the boats drawn by
swans. “Free rides to-day!” said Binder hoarsely;
the orchestrion burst out jubilantly, and the merry-
go-round began to turn as though it would soar up
into the sky. Jan Binder reeled. What could this
mean? Why, it wasn’t the merry-go-round that was
turning now, but the whole earth was spinning round
and round. The Zlichovsky Church was describing
a gigantic curve, the Podol Sanatorium and Vysehrad
were setting off together for the other bank of the
Vltava. Yes, the whole earth was turning about the
merry-go-round, circling faster and faster, humming
like a turbine; only the merry-go-round stood firm
in the centre, rocking gently like a ship with white
horses, deer and swans roving about the deck, and
a little child leading its nurse by the hand and strok¬
ing the animals. Yes, yes, the earth was spinning
furiously, and only the merry-go-round was a lovely
island of quiet and repose. And Jan Binder, dizzy
and sick, raised his arms, and let the mad earth carry
him staggering towards the merry-go-round, seized
one of the rods, and swung himself up on to its
peaceful deck.
9i
The First Blow Struck
Now he could clearly see how the earth was heav¬
ing and tossing like a stormy sea. And look, there
were terrified people rushing out of their houses,
waving their hands, stumbling and falling as though
borne along by a gigantic whirlwind. Holding
tightly to his rod, Binder stooped down to them and
shouted, “Here, people, this way!” And the people
seeing the shining merry-go-round calmly uplifted
above the reeling earth, staggered towards it. Grip¬
ping the rod, Binder held out his free hand and
pulled them up from the heaving earth: children,
grandmothers, old men, all stood on the deck of the
merry-go-round, taking breath again after their ter¬
rible fright, and looking down in dismay upon the
earth spinning below them. Binder had just helped
them all up, when a little black puppy came running
by, yelping with fear, and tried to leap aboard; but
the earth carried him faster and faster round the
merry-go-round. Binder squatted down, reached out
his hand, and grabbed the puppy by the tail, and
lifted it into safety.
Then the orchestrion played a song of thanks¬
giving. It sounded like a chorus of survivors of a
shipwreck, with the rough voices of the sailors
mingling with the prayers of children. Over the
unleashed tempest there bent a rainbow of melody
(in B minor) and the heavens opened in the happy
radiance of pizzicati on the violins. The castaways
92
The Absolute at Large
on Binder’s merry-go-round stood there silent with
their heads bare. The women’s lips moved softly
in silent prayer, and the children, forgetting the
horrors they had passed through, plucked up courage
to stroke the hard muzzle of the deer and the supple
neck of the swan. The white horses patiently
allowed the little limbs to clamber into the saddles ;
sometimes one of them neighed or pawed knowingly
with his hoof. The earth was turning more slowly
now, and Jan Binder, a tall figure in his sleeveless
striped jersey, began in his unpractised style to make
a speech.
“Well, good people, here we have landed out of
the whirl and confusion of the world. Here we
have peace amid the storm. Here we are with God,
as safe as in our beds. It is a sign that we should
flee from the tumult of the world and find refuge in
the arms of God. Amen.” Thus and in like manner
spoke Jan Binder, and the people on the merry-go-
round listened as if they were in church.
At last the earth stopped spinning, the orchestrion
played a soft and reverent voluntary, and the people
jumped down from the merry-go-round. Jan Binder
told them that there was no charge, and dismissed
them, converted and uplifted. And when towards
four o’clock the mothers and children and the old
pensioners were taking their afternoon walk between
Zlichov and Smichov, the orchestrion again began to
93
The First Blow Struck
play, and the earth once more went flying round, and
again Jan Binder brought everybody safe on to the
deck of the merry-go-round and calmed them with
a suitable address. At six o’clock people came from
their day’s work, sweethearts emerged at eight, and
at ten the pleasure-seekers left the public-houses and
picture-palaces; all of them in turn were overcome
by the dizzy whirling of the earth, brought to safety
in the embrace of the merry-go-round, and strength¬
ened for their future life by the apt exhortations of
Jan Binder.
After a week of this hallowed work, Binder’s
merry-go-round forsook Zlichov and went roaming
along the bank of the Vltava up to Chuchle and
Zbraslav, and so reached Stechovice. It had been
working in Stechovice for four days with tremendous
power, when an incident of a somewhat mysterious
character took place.
Jan Binder had just finished his sermon and dis¬
missed his new disciples with a blessing. At that
moment there approached out of the darkness a
black and silent body of people. At their head
walked a tall, bearded man, who went straight up to
Binder.
“Now then,” he said, trying to master his excite¬
ment, “pack up at once, or - ”
Binder’s adherents heard this and returned to
their teacher. Conscious of having his people at
94 The Absolute at Large
the back of him, Binder declared firmly, “Not till
it rains.”
“Control yourself, sir,” said another excited man.
“It’s Mr. Kuzenda speaking to you.”
“Leave him to me, Mr. Hudec,” cried the bearded
man. Til soon settle with him myself. I’m telling
you for the second time; clear out with that thing or,
in the name of the Lord, I’ll smash it up for you.”
“And as for you,” said Jan Binder, “get out of
here or, in the name of the Lord, I’ll knock the
teeth out of your head.”
“God Almighty!” shouted Brych, the stoker,
forcing his way through the crowd to the front.
“Just let him try!”
“Brother,” said Kuzenda soothingly, “let us first
try to settle it quietly. Binder, you are carrying on
foul witchcraft here, and we’ll not put up with it so
close to the sacred shrine of our dredge.”
“Your dredge is a fraud!” said Binder decisively.
“What did you say?” cried Kuzenda, cut to the
quick.
“Your dredge is a fraud!”
What happened next it is hard to disentangle into
any logical sequence. It seems that the first blow
was struck by the baker from Kuzenda’s camp, but
Binder landed him a blow on the head with his fist.
The gamekeeper struck Binder on the chest with his
gunstock, but directly afterwards he lost his gun, and
95
The First Blow Struck
some Stechovice youth from Binder’s camp used it
to knock out Brych’s front teeth and smash Mr.
Hudec’s hat in. Kuzenda’s postman tried to throttle
a youth on Binder’s side. Binder leaped forward to
help the boy, but a girl from Stechovice flung herself
on him from behind, and bit him in the arm just
where he had had the Bohemian lion tattooed. One
of Binder’s party drew a knife, and Kuzenda’s
followers seemed to be falling back, but a smaller
group of them dashed on to the merry-go-round and
broke off the deer’s antlers and the elegantly arching
neck of one of the swans. The merry-go-round gave
a deep groan and heeled over, its roof falling right
upon the struggling mob. Kuzenda was struck by
a pole and knocked unconscious. It all happened in
darkness and silence. When people came rushing
up, Binder had a broken collar-bone, Kuzenda lay
there unconscious, Brych was spitting out teeth and
blood, and the girl from Stechovice was sobbing
hysterically. The rest had fled.
CHAPTER XII
DOCTOR BLAHOUS
hat youthful savant Doctor Blahous, Ph.D.,
X only fifty-five years of age, and now Lecturer
in Comparative Religion at the University of
Prague, rubbed his hands as he sat down before his
quarto sheets of paper. With a few swift strokes
he set down his title — “Religious Phenomena of
Recent Times” — and began his article with the
words: “The controversy over the definition of the
idea of ‘religion’ has lasted ever since the days of
Cicero”; then he gave himself up to his thoughts.
“I’ll send this article to the Prague Times ” he
said to himself, “and just you wait, my revered col¬
leagues, and see what a stir it will make ! It’s lucky
for me that this religious epidemic has broken out
just now 1 It will make it a very topical little article.
The papers will say, ‘That youthful savant, Dr.
Blahous, has just published a penetrating study,’ etc.
Then I’ll be given the Assistant Professorship, and
old Regner will burst with fury.”
Whereupon the youthful savant rubbed his wrin¬
kled hands until the bones cracked blithely, and again
began to write. When towards evening his landlady
Doctor Blahous
97
came to inquire what he would like for supper, he
was already on the sixtieth page, among the Fathers
of the Church. At eleven o’clock (and page 115)
he had arrived at his own definition of the idea of
religion, which differed from his predecessor’s by
precisely one word. After this he dealt succinctly
with the methods of the exact science of religion
(with a few shrewd hits at his opponents), and so
brought to an end the brief introduction to his little
article.
Shortly after midnight our lecturer wrote the
following passage : “It happens that quite recently
various phenomena of a religious and occult char¬
acter have occurred which deserve the attention of
the exact science of religion. Although its main
purpose is undoubtedly to study the religious customs
of nations long since extinct, nevertheless even the
living present can afford the modern [Dr. Blahous
underlined the word] student numerous data which
mutatis mutandis throw a certain light on cults
long vanished, which can only be the subject of
conjecture.”
Then, with the aid of newspaper reports and
evidence given verbally, he gave a description of
Kuzendism, in which he found traces of fetish-wor¬
ship and even totemism (the dredge being made a
sort of Totem God of Stechovice) . In the case of the
Binderians, he worked out their relationship to the
98
The Absolute at Large
Dancing Dervishes and ancient orgiastic cults. He
touched upon the phenomena witnessed at the open¬
ing of the Power Station, and deftly showed their
connection with the fire-worship of the Parsees. In
Machat’s religious community he discovered the
characteristics of the fakirs and ascetics, He cited
various examples of clairvoyance and miraculous
healing, which he compared very aptly to the magic
practised by the old negro tribes of Central Africa.
He went on to deal with mental contagion and mass-
suggestion, introducing historical references to the
Flagellants, the Crusades, Millenarianism and “run¬
ning amok” among the Malays. He threw light
upon the recent religious movement from two psycho¬
logical points of view, ascribing it to pathological
cases in degenerate hysterical subjects, and to a
collective psychical epidemic among the superstitious
and mentally inferior masses. In both cases he
demonstrated the atavistic occurrence of primitive
forms of worship, the tendency to animistic pan¬
theism and shamanism, a religious communism
reminiscent of the Anabaptists, and a general sur¬
render of reasoning power in favour of the grossest
impulses of superstition, witchcraft, occultism, mysti¬
cism, and necroma icy.
“It is not for us to decide,” Dr. Blahous went on
writing, “to what extent this is due to quackery and
imposture on the part of individuals bent on exploit-
Doctor Blahous 99
ing human credulity; a scientific inquiry would
doubtless show that the alleged ‘miracles’ of the
thaumaturgists of to-day are only old and well-known
devices of trickery and suggestion. In this connec¬
tion we would recommend the new ‘religious com¬
munities,’ sects, and circles now daily springing into
existence to the attention of our police authorities
and psychoanalysts. The exact science of religion
confines itself to establishing the fact that all these
religious phenomena are at bottom nothing but
examples of barbaric atavism, and a hotch-potch of
the most rudimentary forms of worship still sub¬
consciously active in the human imagination. It has
only needed a few fanatics, charlatans, and notorious
swindlers to revive among the peoples of Europe,
under the veneer of civilization, these prehistoric
elements of religious belief.”
Dr. Blahous got up from his desk. He had just
finished the three hundredth and forty-sixth page of
his little article, but still he did not feel weary. “I
must think out an effective finish,” he said to
himself; “some reflections on>-, progress and science,
on the suspicious benevolence of the Government
towards religious heterodoxy, and on the necessity
of presenting a fighting front reaction, and so
forth.”
The youthful savant, borne on the wings of his
enthusiasm, went to the window and leaned out into
100
The Absolute at Large
the quiet night. It was half-past four in the morning.
Dr. Blahous looked out on the dark street, shivering
a little with the cold of the night. Everywhere was
the stillness of death, not a glimmer of light showed
in any human habitation. The Lecturer raised his
eyes to the sky. It was already paling a little, but
it still shone in its infinite sublimity, sown with stars.
“How long it is since I looked at the sky!” came
suddenly into the scholar’s mind. “Good heavens, it
is more than thirty years !”
And then he felt a delicious coolness about his
brow, as though someone had taken his head in cool
and spotless hands. “I’m so lonely,” the old man
sighed, “so terribly lonely all the time! Yes, stroke
my hair a little. Alas, it is thirty long years since
anyone’s hand was laid upon my brow!”
Dr. Blahous stood there in the window, stiff and
shaking. “There is something here all about me,”
he suddenly perceived with a sweet and overwhelm¬
ing emotion. “Dear God, I am not alone after all!
Someone’s arm is around me, someone is beside me;
oh, if he would only stay !”
If his landlady had entered the room a little later,
she would have seen him standing in the window
with both arms raised on high, his head flung back,
and an expression of the utmost rapture on his face.
But then he shuddered, opened his eyes, and as if in
a dream went back to his desk.
Doctor Blahous ioi
“On the other hand, however, it is impossible to
doubt,” he wrote rapidly, heedless of all that he had
already written, “that God cannot now reveal Him¬
self otherwise than in primitive forms of worship.
With the decay of faith in modern times our connec¬
tion with the old religious life has been broken. To
bring us back to Him, God must begin again from
the beginning and do as He did with the savages in
olden times: at first He is an idol, a fetish; the idol
of a group, a clan or a tribe; He animates all nature
and works through a witch-doctor. This evolution
of religion is being repeated before our eyes, begin¬
ning with its prehistoric forms and working upwards
to the loftier types. It is possible that the present
religious wave will divide into several streams, each
striving for supremacy to the disadvantage of the
others. We must expect an era of religious struggles
which will surpass the Crusades in their fury and
obstinacy and the last World Wars in their scope.
In our godless world the Kingdom of Heaven cannot
be established without great sacrifices and confusion
of doctrine. Nevertheless I say unto you: Give
yourself up with your whole beings to the Absolute ;
believe in God, in whatsoever form He may declare
Himself to you. Behold even now He cometh to
set up on our earth, and perchance on other planets
of our system also, the everlasting Empire of God,
the Czardom of the Absolute. Ere it is too late, I
102 The Absolute at Large
say yet again unto you : Humble yourselves before
Him!”
This article by Dr. Blahous did actually appear.
Not in its entirety, to be sure. The editor published
part of his discussion of the new sects and the whole
of his conclusion, with a cautious note to the effect
that this paper by the youthful savant was certainly
characteristic of our times.
Blahous’s article did not cause any stir, for it was
overshadowed by other events. Only that youthful
savant, Dr. Regner, Lecturer in Philosophy, read it
with immense interest and afterwards proclaimed in
various places: “Blahous is impossible. Utterly
impossible. How on earth can a man have the nerve
to pose as an expert on religion when he actually
believes in God?”
CHAPTER XIII
THE CHRONICLER’S APOLOGY
nd now permit the chronicler of the Absolute
JT\. to call your attention to his painful situation.
First of all, he is in the act of writing Chapter XIII,
well aware that this unlucky number will have a fatal
influence on the clarity and completeness of his
exposition. There is going to be a mix-up of some
kind in this unfortunate chapter, you may be sure.
Of course, the author could quite calmly head it
Chapter XIV, but the observant reader would feel
that he had been cheated out of Chapter XIII, and
no one could blame him, since he has paid to have the
whole narrative. Besides, if you are afraid of the
number thirteen, you have only to skip this chapter.
It will certainly not cause you to lose much light on
the obscure affair of the Factory for the Absolute.
But the other embarrassments of the chronicler
are much more serious. He has described as co¬
herently as he could the origin of the factory and its
prosperity. He has called your attention to the
occurrences due to certain of the Karburator cylin¬
ders in Mr. Machat’s buildings, at the Zivno
103
io4 The Absolute at Large
Industrial Bank, in the textile works at Upice,
aboard Kuzenda’s dredge, and on Binder’s merry-
go-round. He has described the tragic experience of
Blahous, the result of long-range infection, induced
by the free and mobile Absolute, which had evidently
begun to spread in a serious fashion, although after
no definite plan.
But now you must remember that since the begin¬
ning of the whole affair countless thousands of
Karburators of the most diverse types had been
manufactured. Trains, flying-machines, automobiles,
and ships driven by this most economical of all
motors discharged along their routes whole clouds of
the Absolute, just as in other days they used to leave
a trail of dust, smoke, and smells. You must remem¬
ber that thousands of factories all over the world
had already scrapped their old boilers and equipped
themselves with Karburators; that hundreds of
Government departments and offices, hundreds of
banks, exchanges, wholesale and export firms, as well
as huge restaurants, hotels, military barracks,
schools, theatres, tenements, thousands of newspaper
offices and clubs, cabarets, and households were being
heated by the latest M.E.C. Central-Heating Kar-
burator. You must remember that the Stinnes
interests with all their ramifications had amalga¬
mated with the M.E.C., and that the American Ford
works had flung themselves into mass-production
The Chronicler’s Apology 105
which hurled thirty thousand finished Karburators
out upon the world every day.
Well, bearing all this in mind, just recall what
happened with each of those Karburators whose
history has been presented to you. Multiply these
incidents a hundred thousand times, and you will
grasp at once the unhappy position of the present
chronicler. How gladly he would journey with you
after each new Karburator, see it loaded on the
wagon, and offer a bit of hay or bread or a lump
of sugar to the heavy draught-horses, with their
broad and kingly backs, which drag the new copper
cylinders on the rattling lorry to the factory ! How
gladly he would look on while they set it up, standing
with his hands behind his back and giving the
erectors his advice, and then wait until it was set in
motion 1 How eagerly then he would peer into
people’s faces to note when “it” would begin to
affect them, when the Absolute would creep into their
being by the nose or ears or any other part, and
begin to dissolve the hardness of their nature, over¬
power their personal tendencies, and cure their
moral wounds; to watch the Absolute turn them up
with its heavy plough, warm them, master them, and
shape them anew; to see it lay open to them a world
so marvellous and yet intrinsically so human, of
wonders, ecstasy, enlightenment, inspiration and
belief 1 For you must know that the chronicler
io6 The Absolute at Large
admits that he is incapable of writing a history.
Where the historian uses the press or pounder of his
historical learning, documentary lore, abstracts,
synthesis, statistics, and other professional devices,
to squeeze thousands and hundreds of thousands of
little vital personal incidents into a dense and arbi¬
trary conglomerate known as “a historical fact,” “a
social phenomenon,” “a mass movement,” “evo¬
lution,” “the mind of the race,” or “historical
truth” in general, the chronicler sees only the
individual cases and even finds them pleasing in
themselves.
Now suppose that he had to describe and explain,
say, pragmatically, progressively, theoretically, and
synthetically, the “religious wave” which swept over
the whole world before the year 1950. Once he sees
this grandiose task before him, he begins collecting
the “religious phenomena” of his own time; and
there, in the course of these researches, he comes,
for example, upon Jan Binder, ex-variety artiste,
wandering from place to place in his striped jersey
with his atomic merry-go-round. Historical syn¬
thesis, of course, requires the chronicler to omit the
striped jersey, the merry-go-round, even Jan Binder
himself, and retain as the “historical nucleus” or
scientific result, only the discovery that “these
religious phenomena from the very outset affected
the most diverse classes of society.”
The Chronicler’s Apology 107
Well, then, the chronicler must here and now con¬
fess that he cannot cast aside Jan Binder, that he is
fascinated by his merry-go-round, and that even that
striped jersey of his interests him far more than
any “synthetic outline” whatever. To be sure, this
displays complete scientific incompetence, empty
dilettantism, the narrowest historical outlook, or
anything else you like ; yet if the chronicler could give
rein to his personal inclinations, he would go off on
his travels with Jan Binder as far as Budejovice,
then to Klatovy, Pilsen, Zlutice, and so on. It is with
regret that he leaves him in Stechovice and waves
his hand and cries, “Good-bye, Binder, you sturdy
fellow, and good-bye, merry-go-round! We shall
never meet again.”
Bless my soul, it was with just the same feeling
that I left Kuzenda and Brych on the Vltava dredge.
I should have liked to spend many and many an
evening with them, for I love the Vltava and all
running water in general, and evenings on the water
in particular, and I took an unusual liking to Mr.
Kuzenda and Mr. Brych as well. As for Mr. Hudec,
the baker, the postman, the gamekeeper, and the
sweethearts from Stechovice, I believe that they, too,
would be worth knowing intimately, as anyone is, as
all of you are, as is every living human being. But
I must push on, and I have hardly time enough to
wave my hat to you. Good-bye, Mr. Kuzenda;
io8 The Absolute at Large
good-night, Mr. Brych. My thanks for that one
evening on board the dredge.
Of you, too, Dr. Blahous, I must take my leave.
I should like to spend many a year with you and
describe your whole career . . . for is not the life
of a university lecturer rich and exciting, after its
fashion ? Give my regards to your landlady at least.
Everything there is, is worth observing.
And that is why I should like to accompany each
new Karburator on its way. I should become
acquainted with fresh people every day, and so would
you, and that is always worth while. Just to peep
through one’s spyglass into their lives, to see their
hearts, to watch their personal faith and personal
salvation come into being, to linger amid the new
marvels of human saintliness — that is what would
lure me on ! Just picture to yourself a beggar, a
ruling chief, a bank-manager, an engine-driver, a
waiter, a rabbi, a major, a writer on political
economy, a cabaret comedian, men of every possible
calling; and imagine a miser, a sensualist, a glutton,
a sceptic, a hypocrite, a sneak, a career-hunter, men
of every possible human passion — what diverse,
endlessly varying, strange and surprising instances
and phenomena of heavenly grace (or, if you like,
poisoning with the Absolute) one could meet, and
how absorbing it would be to study each one of them.
What gradations of faith there would be, from the
The Chronicler’s Apology I09
ordinary believer to the fanatic, from the penitent to
the miracle-worker, from the convert to the fiery
apostle. If one could only embrace it all! If one
could only extend a hand to each of them! But it
is useless ; that great work will never be completed,
and the chronicler, having renounced the honour of
distilling scientifically all his historical material,
turns away with sorrow from the individual cases
which it is not permitted him to relate.
I wish I could stay a little longer with Saint Ellen !
I wish I need not treacherously abandon our friend,
R. Marek, undergoing a rest cure at Spindelmuhl! I
wish I could reveal the workings of the brain of that
industrial strategist, G. H. Bondy. All in vain; the
Absolute has already flooded the world, and has
become a mass-phenomenon; and the chronicler,
regretfully looking backward, must reconcile himself
to a summary description of a few of the social and
political events which inevitably ensued.
Come, then, let us enter upon a new range of
facts.
CHAPTER XIV
THE LAND OF PLENTY
IT has often happened to the chronicler (and surely
to many of his readers) that when for any
reason whatever he has gazed at the night sky and
the stars, and realized with mute amazement their
prodigious number and their inconceivable distance
and dimensions, and told himself that each of those
glittering dots was a gigantic flaming world or a
whole living planetary system, and that there were
possibly billions, say, of such dots; or when he has
looked down to a far horizon from a high mountain
(it happened to me in the Tatras), and has seen
beneath him fields and woods and mountains, and
right in front of him dense forest and grass lands, all
of it more than luxuriant, running riot, life exuberant
and alarming in its richness — and when he has noted
in the grass myriads of blossoms, tiny beetles, and
butterflies, and has mentally multiplied this mad pro¬
fusion by the vast expanses stretching away before
him to Heaven knows where, and has added to these
expanses the millions of other expanses equally
crowded and luxuriant, which compose the surface
of our earth; at such a moment it has often happened
no
Ill
The Land of Plenty
that the chronicler has bethought him of the Creator,
and has said to himself: “If someone made or
created all this, then we must admit that it is a
terrible waste. If anyone wanted to show his power
as a Creator, there was no need to create such an
insane quantity of things. Excess is chaos, and chaos
is something like insanity or drunkenness. Yes, the
human intellect is staggered by the over-profusion of
this creative achievement. There is simply too much
of it. It’s boundlessness gone mad. Of course, He
who is Infinite from His very birth is accustomed
to huge proportions in everything, and has no proper
standard (for every standard implies finiteness) or,
rather, has no standard whatsoever.”
I beg you not to regard this as blasphemy; I am
only endeavouring to set forth the disproportion
between human ideas and this cosmic superabund¬
ance. This wanton, purposeless, well-nigh feverish
excess of everything that exists appears to the sober
human eye more like creativeness run wild than
conscientious and methodical creation. That is what
I wish to say, with all due respect, before we return
to our story.
You are already aware that the process of perfect
combustion invented by Marek practically proved
the presence of the Absolute in every form of
matter. One might put it this way (only as a
hypothesis, of course), that before the creation of
1 1 2
The Absolute at Large
all things the Absolute existed in the form of an
Infinite Free Energy. For some cogent physical or
moral reason, this Free Energy began to be creative.
It became Working Energy, and following the laws
of inversion, it was transformed into a state of
Infinite Imprisoned Energy. It lost itself some¬
how in its own handiwork, i.e. in created matter,
and remained there latent, as if under a spell.
And if this is hard to understand, I cannot help
you.
And now, apparently as a result of the perfect
combustion effected by Marek’s atomic motors, this
imprisoned energy was liberated, freed of the fetters
of matter which had held it fast. It became once
more Free Energy or active Absolute, as free as it
was before the Creation. It was the sudden release
of that same inscrutable and unresting power which
had already manifested itself once in the Creation of
the World.
If the whole cosmos at once were to undergo
complete combustion, the first act of creation might
be repeated; for that would indeed be the end of
the world, a complete liquidation which would make
possible the establishment of a new world-firm,
Cosmos the Second. Meanwhile, as you know,
Marek’s Karburators were only burning up the
material world by kilogrammes at a time. Being
thus released in small quantities only, the Absolute
The Land of Plenty iJ3
either did not feel sufficiently strong to begin creating
again at once, or perhaps did not wish to repeat
itself. Anyhow, it decided to express itself in two
ways, one of them to some extent traditional and the
other distinctly modern.
The traditional manner in which it began to exert
itself was, as you already know, the religious one.
This embraced all varieties of illumination, conver¬
sion, moral effects, miracles, levitations, ecstasies,
predictions, and, above all, religious faith. Here the
Absolute burst into the personal and social life of
the people over paths already well trodden, but to
an extent hitherto unheard of. After a few months
of its activity there was practically not a single person
on earth who had not experienced, if only for a
moment, that religious shock by which the Absolute
made known its presence to his soul. We will return
to the subject of this psychological onset of the
Absolute later on, when it will be necessary to depict
its catastrophic consequences.
The other form of manifestation of the existence
of the Absolute at large was something entirely new.
The Infinite Energy which had once busied itself
with the creation of the world apparently took cog¬
nizance of the altered conditions, and flung itself
into manufacture. It did not form something out
of nothing, but it made finished goods out of raw
material. Instead of indulging in pure creation, it
1 14 The Absolute at Large
took its place at the machines. It became the Infinite
Artisan.
Suppose that some factory or other, say a place
where tacks were manufactured, had installed a
Perfect Karburator in place of a steam-engine as
the cheapest form of plant. The Absolute constantly
emanating from the atomic motor learnt the whole
process of manufacture in a single day, by virtue of
its innate intelligence, and flung itself with all its
uncontrollable energy or, perhaps, ambition into this
occupation. It began to manufacture tacks on its
own account. Once it started, nothing could stop it.
Without anyone in control of it, the machine vomited
forth tacks. The supplies of iron ready to be manu¬
factured into tacks raised themselves of their own
accord, one piece after another, thrust themselves
through the air, and inserted themselves in the
proper machines. It was at first an uncanny thing
to see. When these supplies were exhausted, iron
sprouted out of the earth, the ground round the
factory exuded pure iron as if it were being drawn
by suction from the depths of the earth. This iron
then raised itself into the air to the height of about
one metre and slid jerkily into the machinery as if
it were being pushed in. Please note this carefully;
I may have said “the iron raised itself” or “the iron
slid,” but all eye-witnesses give it as their impression
that the iron was lifted by sheer force by an inexor-
The Land of Plenty 115
able but invisible power, and with a might so
manifest and concentrated that they were seized with
horror. It was plain to the eye that it was being
done by the exercise of terriffic effort.
Probably some of you have toyed with spiritual¬
ism and have seen something of “table-lifting.” If
so, you will bear me out in this — that the table
certainly did not rise as though it had lost its material
weight, but rather moved with a sort of spasmodic
effort; it creaked in all its joints, and quivered, and
fairly reared, until finally it leaped up in the air as
if lifted by a power which was struggling with it for
mastery.
But how am I to describe the frightful, silent
struggle which forced iron to raise itself from the
depths of the earth, which pressed it into bars, threw
these into the machines, and smashed them up into
tacks? The bars twisted like withies, fought against
the motion that pushed them forward, rattled and
grated amid the silence of that which wrestled with
them, soundless and substanceless. All contem¬
porary reports speak of the horror of the scene. It
was a very miracle, but do not imagine that a miracle
is something fabulously easy and effortless ; it rather
seems that the performance of a genuine miracle
entails intense and exhausting exertions. But though
the labours of the Absolute might make a great call
upon its powers, the most astounding thing about its
n6 The Absolute at Large
new activities was the copiousness of its output.
Thus, to keep to the department already mentioned,
the one solitary tack factory which the Absolute had
in its power poured forth night and day so many
tacks that they were piled up in mountains in the
yard, and eventually broke down the fences and
blocked up the street.
Let us stick to this instance of the tacks for the
time being. It shows you the whole nature of the
Absolute, just as inexhaustible and extravagant as
it was at the time of the Creation. Once it had
thrown itself into production, it did not trouble
about distribution, consumption, market, or ultimate
object; it did not trouble about anything: it simply
devoted its gigantic energy to pouring forth tacks.
Being itself infinite in essence, it knew neither
measure nor limitation in anything, even in the
matter of tacks.
You can well imagine how the workmen in such a
factory were startled by the performances of the
new motive power. For them it was a case of wholly
unexpected and unfair competition, something that
made their labour altogether superfluous; and they
would quite rightly have protected themselves
against this assault of the capitalism of the Man¬
chester School on the working classes by at least
demolishing the factory and hanging its proprietors,
if the Absolute had not surprised and overpowered
\
The Land of Plenty 117
them by its first method of attack, religious illumina¬
tion of every form and degree. Meantime they
experienced levitations, prophecies, miracle-working,
visions, supernatural cures, sanctification, love for
their neighbours, and other conditions equally
unnatural, not to say miraculous.
On the other hand, you can easily guess how the
proprietor of such a tack-factory would greet this
divine mass-production. He might certainly rejoice,
discharge all his workmen, with whom he was in any
case well-nigh worried to death, and rub his hands
over the volcanic gush of tacks which it cost not a
penny to produce. But on the one hand, he himself
was sure to fall a victim to the psychic effects of the
Absolute, and hand over the whole factory on the
spot to his workmen, his brothers in God, as their
common property; while on the other hand he very
soon realized that those mountains of tacks were
utterly valueless because he would find no market
for them.
It is true that the workmen no longer had to stand
at the machines and carry bars of iron, and were
part-proprietors of the factory besides. But in a
few days’ time it became evident that it was necessary
to get rid, somehow or other, of the hundred-ton
mountains of tacks which had ceased to be saleable
goods. At first some attempts were made to send
the tacks off in wagon-loads to imaginary addresses;
n8 The Absolute at Large
later on, there was nothing for it but to cart them off
to huge dumps outside the city. This removal of
the tacks kept all the workmen busy for a full
fourteen hours a day, but they did not grumble,
being illuminated by the divine spirit of love and of
mutual service.
Forgive me for spending so much time over these
tacks. The Absolute was ignorant of industrial
specialization. It invaded the spinning-mills with
equal ardour, and there not only performed the
miracle of making sand into ropes, but even spun it
into thread. In the weaving and fulling mills and
in the stocking factories it laid hold on the entire
textile department, and reeled off without pause
millions of kilometres of everything that can be cut
with scissors. It took possession of the iron works,
the rolling mills, the foundries, the factories for
agricultural machinery, the sawmills, timber works,
rubber works, sugar-mills, chemical works, fertilizer
works, nitrogen and naphtha plants, printing works,
paper-mills, dye works, glass works, potteries, boot
and shoe factories, ribbon works, forges, mines,
breweries, distilleries, creameries, flour-mills, mints,
motor works, and grinding plants. It wove, spun,
knitted, forged, cast, erected, sewed, planed, cut,
dug, burned, printed, bleached, refined, cooked,
filtered, and pressed for twenty-four to twenty-six
jhours a day. Harnessed to agricultural machines in
The Land of Plenty 119
the place of tractors, it ploughed, sowed, harrowed,
weeded, cut, harvested and threshed. In every
department it augmented the raw material and mul¬
tiplied the output hundreds of times. It was inex¬
haustible. It simply squandered its activity. It had
found a quantitative expression for its own infinitude :
over-production.
The miraculous multiplication of the loaves and
fishes in the desert was repeated on a colossal scale
in the miraculous multiplication of tacks, boards,
nitrates, pneumatic tyres, rolls of paper, and manu¬
factured articles of every kind.
Thus there ruled in the world a state of boundless
plenty of all that men could need. But men need
everything, everything but boundless plenty.
CHAPTER XV
DISASTER
OF course, in our own orderly and (one might
well say) blessed times of general scarcity, we
simply cannot imagine the social evil that boundless
plenty could be. To us it seems that to find ourselves
all of a sudden amid unlimited supplies of everything
we wanted would be nothing short of the Earthly
Paradise. It would be all to the good, we think; there
would be enough of everything for everybody — and
Lord ! how prices would come down !
Well, then, the economic catastrophe which befell
the whole world at the period we are describing, as
a result of the interference of the Absolute in indus¬
try, arose from the fact that people could get every¬
thing they wanted, not merely at a low pirce, but
simply for nothing. You might help yourself, free
of charge, to a handful of tacks, to go into your boot-
soles or into the floor; you could just as easily help
yourself to a whole cartload of tacks gratis — only I
ask you, what would you do with them? Would
you haul them a hundred kilometres off and then
give them away? You wouldn’t do that; for when
you stood before that avalanche of tacks, wh?t you
120
Disaster
1 2 1
saw was not tacks — relatively useful objects — but
something perfectly valueless and senseless in its
profusion, something as purposeless as are the stars
in the sky. Of course, such a mound of new and
shining tacks was often an uplifting sight, and even
inspired poetical reflections as do the stars in the sky.
They seemed created to be gazed upon in silent
wonder. It was a fine sight in its way, as a piece of
landscape, just as the sea is from that point of view.
But then again, you don’t take the sea away in carts
into the interior of the country where there is no
sea. There is no economic distribution for sea-water
— and now there was none for tacks.
And while in one place there spread this sparkling
ocean of tacks, in another only a few kilometres
farther off there was not a tack to be had. Having
become economically worthless, they had disappeared
from the shops. If anyone wished to knock one into
his shoe or put one into his neighbour’s mattress, he
sought for it in vain. There weren’t any, just as
there is no sea at Slany or Caslav. Where were you
then, you business men of days gone by, who used
to buy the necessities of life so cheap in one place
and sell them so dear in another? Alas, you had
vanished, for heavenly grace had descended upon
you. You had grown ashamed of your gains; you
had shut up your shops to reflect upon the brother¬
hood of man; you had given away your possessions,
122
The Absolute at Large
and never again would you desire to enrich your¬
selves by the distribution of those things which are
needed by all your brethren in God.
No value means no market. No market means
no distribution. No distribution means no goods.
And no goods means greater demand, higher prices,
bigger profits and larger businesses. And you had
turned your backs upon gain and conceived an uncon¬
trollable antipathy to all figures whatsoever. You
had ceased to look upon the material world with the
eyes of consumption, market, and sale. You stood
with clasped hands staring at the beauty and the
profusion of the world. And in the meanwhile the
supply of tacks ran out. At last none remained.
Only somewhere, far away, they were piled up as
by an inexhaustible avalanche.
Even you, ye master bakers, went out in front of
your shops, and cried, “Come then, children of God,
in the name of Christ, our Master, come and take
these loaves and flour and biscuits and rolls. Have
pity on us and take them for nothing.”
And you, ye drapers, brought your bales of cloth
and rolls of linen out into the street, and wept with
joy as you cut off five or ten metre lengths for every¬
one who went by, and begged them for the love of
God to accept your little gift; and only when your
shop was completely empty of its wares did you fall
on your knees and thank God that He had given
Disaster 123
you the opportunity to clothe your neighbours as
He clothes the lilies in the field.
And you, ye butchers and dealers in cooked meats,
you took baskets of meat and sausages and polonies
on your heads, and went from door to door, and
knocked or rang, and begged everybody just to help
themselves to whatever they fancied.
And all you who sell boots, furniture, tobacco,
bags, spectacles, jewels, carpets, whips, ropes, tin-
war, china, books, false teeth, vegetables, medicines,
or whatever else one can think of — all of you,
touched by the breath of God, poured out into the
street, a prey to the generous panic born of grace
divine, and gave away all you possessed; after which,
either coming together or standing on the threshold
of your emptied shops and warehouses, you declared
to one another with glowing eyes, “Now, brother,
I have eased my conscience.”
In a few days it became evident that there was
nothing left to give away. But there was also
nothing left to buy. The Absolute had pillaged and
completely cleaned out every place of business.
Meanwhile, far away from the cities, there poured
from the machines millions of metres of wool and
linen, Niagaras of lump sugar, all the teeming,
magnificent and inexhaustible profusion of the divine
over-production of every kind of goods. Some
feeble efforts to divide and distribute this flood of
124
The Absolute at Large
commodities were quelled at the outset. It simply
could not be mastered.
For that matter, it is possible that this economic
catastrophe had also another cause: currency infla¬
tion. You see, the Absolute had likewise taken
possession of the Government mints and printing
establishments, and every day it flung out upon the
world hundreds of millions of banknotes, coins, and
securities. Utter devaluation was the result : before
Jong a packet of five thousand mark notes meant
nothing more than so much waste paper. Whether
you offered a halfpenny or half a million for a child’s
lollypop, it was all the same from the business point
of view : you wouldn’t get the lollypop, anyhow, for
they had all disappeared. Figures had lost all sig¬
nificance. This collapse of the numerical system is,
in any case, the natural consequence of the infinitude
and omnipotence of God.
At the same time, food shortage and even famine
had already made themselves felt in the cities. The
organization for the maintenance of supplies had
broken down completely for the reasons just
mentioned.
Of course there were Ministries of Supply, Com¬
merce, Social Welfare, and Railways, and by our
ideas it should have been possible to get control of
the gigantic stream of factory production in time,
prevent the goods from spoiling, and transport them
Disaster 125
carefully to the places which the liberality of the
Absolute had despoiled. Unhappily this plan was
not followed. The personnel of each of the Minis¬
tries were the victims of grace in unusual power, and
spent their office hours in joyful prayer. In the
Ministry of Supply a lady clerk named Sarova con¬
trolled the situation, preaching on the subject of the
Seven Degrees; in the Ministry of Commerce the
head of a department, Mr. Winkler, proclaimed a
severe asceticism which resembled the teachings of
the Hindu Yoga. True, this excessive zeal lasted
only a fortnight, being succeeded (doubtless through
special inspiration from the Absolute) by a period
of extraordinary devotion to duty. The depart¬
ments responsible worked feverishly day and night
to avert a breakdown of food supplies, but appar¬
ently it was even then too late. The only result was
that each department produced daily from fifteen
to fifty-three thousand bills and enactments, which
by decree of the Inter-Ministerial Commission were
carted away daily on motor lorries to the Vltava
River.
The food situation assuredly offered the most
terrible problem. Luckily, however, there remained
(I am, of course, describing conditions only in our
own country) Our Jolly Farmers. And here,
gentlemen, you must learn that from time imme¬
morial we have had the saying: “With all due
1 26 The Absolute at Large
respect to anyone else, our countryfolk are the back¬
bone of the nation.” In fact, there’s an old rhyme
about it, something like this: “Who is the man so
strong and tall, Whose daily labour feeds us all?
The farmer 1”
Who was the man with whom the feverish
prodigality of the Absolute came to a halt; who was
the man who stood unmoved amid the panic of the
markets of the world; who was the man who did not
fold his hands in his lap, who did not let himself be
carried off his feet, but “remained faithful to the law
of his being” ? Who was the man so strong and tall
whose daily labour fed us all? The farmer!
Yes, it was the farmer (and the same thing hap¬
pened elsewhere), who by his conduct saved the
world from starvation. Just imagine the conse¬
quences if he had been seized, like the townsfolk,
with the mania for giving everything away to the
poor and needy; if he had given away all his corn,
his cows and calves, his chickens and geese and
potatoes. Within a fortnight famine would have
stalked through the cities, and the countryfolk them¬
selves would have been sucked dry, starved out, left
stripped of all their supplies. Thanks to our sturdy
farmer, this was not to be. Whether you explain it
after the event, as being due to the marvellous
instinct of the country-dweller, or to his steadfast,
pure, deep-rooted tradition, or finally to the fact
Disaster 127
that in the rural districts the Absolute was less
potent, because in the small argricultral holdings the
Karburator was not so widely used as in industry —
in short, explain it as you please, the fact remains
that amid the general collapse of the economic and
financial structure, and of the whole market, the
farmer gave nothing away. He did not give away
even a wisp of straw or a grain of oats. Calm and
unmoved amid the ruins of the old industrial and
commercial order, our farmer went on selling what
he had. And he sold it dear. He sensed through
some mysterious instinct the calamitous significance
of over-production, and so he put on the brakes in
time. He did this by raising his prices, however
crammed his granaries might be. And it is a testi¬
mony to the amazing soundness of the core of our
countryfolk that without saying a word to each
other, without any organization, led only by the
redeeming inward voice, they raised their prices
everywhere and for everything. By thus putting up
the price of everything, the farmer saved it from
destruction. In the midst of insensate profusion he
preserved an island of scarcity and costliness. He
foresaw, of a surety, that thereby he was saving the
world.
For while other goods, being made valueless by
being given away gratis, vanished from the market
at once as a natural result, foodstuffs continued to
128
The Absolute at Large
be sold. Of course you had to go out into the country
to fetch them. The baker and butcher and retailer
had nothing they could give you except brotherly
love and pious words. So you took up your knapsack
and went a hundred and twenty kilometres out. You
went from farm to farm, and in one place you
bought a kilo of potatoes in exchange for a gold
watch, in another an egg for a pair of opera-glasses,
in another a kilo of bran for a harmonium or a type¬
writer. And so you had something to eat. You see,
if the farmer had given it all away, you would have
been done for long ago. But the farmer saved even
a pound of butter for you — of course only in order
to dispose of it for a Persian rug or a costly national
costume.
Well, who brought the mad communistic experi¬
ments of the Absolute to a halt? Who did not lose
his head amid the epidemic of righteousness ? Who
withstood the disastrous tide of superabundance
and saved us from destruction without sparing our
persons or our purses?
Who is the man so strong and tall
Whose daily labour feeds us all ?
The farmer!
CHAPTER XVI
IN THE MOUNTAINS
IT was noon at the Hut in Bear Valley. Rudolf
Marek sat curled up on the veranda; he looked
at a newspaper, but he soon folded it up again, and
gazed out over the far-stretching chain of the Giant
Mountains. Stillness, a vast and crystalline stillness,
lay upon the mountains, and the man curled up in
the chair straightened himself and took a deep
breath.
Then the tiny figure of a man appeared from
below making towards the Hut.
“How pure the air is here!” thought Marek on
his veranda. “Here, Heaven be praised, the Abso¬
lute is still latent, it still lies under a spell, hidden in
everything, in these mountains and forests, in the
sweet grass and the blue sky. Here it does not rush
about all over the place, waking terror or working
magic; it simply dwells in all matter, a God deeply
and quietly present, not even breathing, only in
silence watching over all. . . Marek clasped his
hands in a mute prayer of thankfulness. “Dear
God, how pure the air is here !”
129
130
The Absolute at Large
The man who had come up from below stopped
under the veranda.
“Well, Marek, so I’ve found you at last!”
Marek looked up, not greatly pleased. The man
who stood before him was G. H. Bondy.
“So I’ve found you at last!” Bondy said again.
“Come along up, then,” said Marek, with obvious
reluctance. “What the deuce has brought you here ?
Heavens, man, you do look queer !”
G. H. Bondy did indeed look sunken and yellow;
he had gone very grey about the temples, and lines
of weariness made dark shadows around his eyes.
He seated himself without a word beside Marek
and squeezed his hands together between his knees.
“Come now, what’s wrong with you?” Marek
pressed him after a painful silence.
Bondy raised his arms.
“I’m going to retire, old man. You see, it’s got
me too . . . me!”
“What, religion?” shouted Marek, recoiling as
though from a leper.
Bondy nodded. Was it not a tear of shame that
trembled on his lashes? Marek whistled softly.
“What — it’s got you now? My poor old fellow!”
“No,” cried Bondy quickly, wiping his eyes.
“Don’t think I’m not all right at present; I’ve got
under, you might say, Rudy, I’ve beaten it. But, do
you know, when it came over me, it was the very
In the Mountains 13 1
happiest moment of my life. You have no idea,
Rudy, what tremendous will-power it takes to shake
that off.”
“I can well believe it,” said Marek gravely. “And
tell me, what sort of . . . er . . . symptoms did
you have?”
“Love for my neighbour,” Bondy whispered.
“Man, I was frantic with love. I would never have
believed it possible to feel anything like it.”
There was silence for a moment.
“So, then, you’ve ...” Marek began.
“I’ve thrown it off. Rather like a fox that gnaws
its own leg off when it’s caught in a trap. But I’m
still confoundedly weak after the struggle. An utter
wreck, Rudy. As if I’d have typhoid. That’s why
I’ve come here, to pick up again, you see. ... Is it
all clear up here?”
“Quite clear; not a single trace of it so far. You
can only sense it . . . in Nature and everything; but
then one could do that before — one always could, in
the mountains.”
Bondy kept a gloomy silence. “Well, and what
do you make of it all?” he said absently, after a
while. “Have you any notion up here of what’s
going on down below?”
“I get the papers. Even from the papers one can
to a certain extent deduce what is happening. Of
course these journalists distort everything; still, any-
132
The Absolute at Large
one who can read. ... I say, Bondy, are things
really so awful?”
G. H. Bondy shook his head.
“A lot worse than you think. Simply desperate.
Listen,” he whispered brokenly. “He’s everywhere
by now. I think that . . . that He’s got a definite
plan.”
“A plan?” cried Marek, leaping to his feet.
“Don’t shout so. He has some kind of plan, my
friend. And He’s going about it deuced cleverly.
Tell me, Marek, what is the greatest power in the
world?”
“England,” said Marek without hesitation.
“Not at all. Industry is the greatest power in
the world. And the so-called ‘proletariat’ are like¬
wise the greatest power in the world. Do you see
the scheme now?”
“No, I don’t see it at all.”
“He has got control of them both. He has both
industry and the masses in His power. So every¬
thing is in His grasp. Everything goes to show that
He is thinking of world-supremacy. That’s how
things are, Marek.”
Marek sat down. “Wait a bit, Bondy,” he said.
“I’ve been thinking a good deal about it up here in
the mountains. I’ve been following up everything
and comparing the signs. I tell you, Bondy, I don’t
even give a thought to anything else. I certainly
133
In the Mountains
don’t know what He is aiming at, but I do know
this, Bondy, that He’s following no particular plan.
He doesn’t know Himself what He wants and how
to get it. Possibly He wants to do something big,
but doesn’t know how to set about it. I’ll tell you
something, Bondy. So far He’s only a force of
Nature. Politically, He’s a fearful ignoramus. In
the matter of economics He’s a simple savage.
After all, He ought to have submitted to the
Church; she has had experience. . . . You know, He
sometimes strikes me as being so childish. . . .”
“Don’t you believe it, Rudy,” G. H. Bondy
returned heavily. “He knows what He wants.
That’s why He plunged into large-scale industry.
He is far more up to date than we ever thought.”
“That is only His play,” urged Marek. “He
only wants something to occupy Himself with.
Don’t you see, there’s a sort of god-like boyishness
about it. Wait, I know what you want to say. Asa
worker He is tremendous. It is simply amazing
what He can bring off. But, Bondy, it is so sense¬
less that there can’t be any plan in it.”
“The most senseless things in history were syste¬
matically prosecuted plans,” declared G. H. Bondy.
“My dear Bondy,” said Marek quickly. “Look at
all the papers I have here. I follow up every step
He takes. I tell you that there isn’t a scrap of
consistency about them. They’re all merely the
134
The Absolute at Large
improvisations of omnipotence. He performs tre¬
mendous tricks, but at random, disconnectedly, con¬
fusedly. His activity isn’t organized a scrap. He
came into the world altogether too unprepared.
That’s where His weakness lies. He impresses me,
but I see His weak points. He is not a good organ¬
izer, and perhaps never has been. He has flashes of
genius, but He is unsystematic. I’m surprised that
you haven’t got the better of Him, Bondy, a wide¬
awake fellow like you.”
“You can’t do anything with Him,” Bondy
asserted. “He attacks you in your innermost soul,
and you’re done for. When He can’t convince you
by reason, He sends miraculous enlightenment upon
you. You know what He did with Saul.”
“You are running away from Him,” said Marek,
“but I am running after Him, and I’m close at His
heels. I know a bit about Him already, enough to
get out a warrant for Him! Description: infinite,
invisible, and formless. Place of residence: every¬
where in the vicinity of atomic motors. Occupa¬
tion: mystical Communism. Crimes for which He
is wanted: alienation of private property, illegal
practice of medicine, offences against the Public
Assemblies Act, interference with officials in the
execution of their duty, and so forth. Distinguish¬
ing marks : omnipotence. In short, have Him
arrested.”
In the Mountains 13 5
“You’re making fun of it,” sighed G. H. Bondy.
“Don’t do it. He has beaten us.”
“Not yet!” cried Marek. “Look here, Bondy.
He doesn’t know how to govern yet. He has got
into a fearful muddle with His new undertakings.
For instance, He has gone in for over-production
instead of first building up a miraculous railway
system. Now He’s in the mire Himself — what He
produces has no value. That miraculous profusion
of everything was a fearful fiasco. In the second
place, He turned the brains of the authorities with
His mysticism and upset the whole machinery of
Government, which otherwise He could now be using
to maintain order. You can make revolutions any¬
where else you like, but not in the Government
offices; even if the world’s to be brought to an end,
the thing to do is to destroy the universe first and
take the Government offices afterwards. That’s
how it is, Bondy. And in the third place, like the
crudest of doctrinaire Communists, He has done
away with the currency and thereby with one stroke
paralysed the circulation of commodities. He did not
know that the laws of the market are stronger than
the laws of God. He did not know that production
without trade is utterly senseless. He knew nothing
whatever. He behaved like . . . like a . . . well, to
put it shortly, as if He would destroy with one hand
what He made with the other. Here we have
13& The Absolute at Large
miraculous profusion, and along with it disastrous
shortage. He is all-powerful, yet He’s achieved
only chaos. I believe that He once did really create
the laws of Nature, the primordial lizards, the
mountains, and anything else you like. But business,
Bondy, our modern industry and commerce, that I
swear He did not create, for He simply doesn’t
know a thing about it. No, Bondy, industry and
commerce are not of God.”
“Hold on,” said G. H. Bondy. “I know that the
consequences of His acts are calamitous . . . immeas¬
urable. . . . But what can we do about it?”
“For the time being, nothing. My dear Bondy,
I just study and compare. It is a second Babel.
Here, for instance, you have the Roman Catholic
publications expressing the suspicion that ‘the con¬
fusions of these times of religious excitement are
being deliberately organized with Satanic subtlety
by the Freemasons.’ The Nationalist Press blames
the Jews, the Socialists of the Right blame those of
the Left, the Agrarian party attacks the Liberals;
it’s killing. And mind you, we’re not really in the
whirlpool yet. In my opinion, the whole thing is
only just beginning to get into a tangle. Come here,
Bondy, I want to tell you something.”
“Well?”
“Do you think that He . . . you know what I
mean . . . that He’s the only one there is?”
In the Mountains J37
“I don’t know,” replied Bondy. “And is it of any
special importance?”
“Immense importance,” Marek answered. “Come
closer, Bondy, and prick up your ears.”
CHAPTER XVII
THE HAMMER AND STAR
“TJkother Senior Warden, what do you see in
X3 the East?” asked the Worshipful Master.
He was dressed all in black, wore the white leather
apron, and held the silver gavel in his hand.
“I see the Masters assembled in the Temple and
ready for labour,” said the Senior Warden.
The Worshipful Master gave a knock with his
gavel.
“Brother Junior Warden, what do you see in the
West?”
“I see the Masters assembled in the Temple and
ready for labour.”
The Worshipful Master knocked three times with
his gavel. “Let the labour begin.”
The Brothers of the Free French Masonic Lodge,
“The Hammer and Star,” took their seats, never
taking their eyes off the Worshipful Master, G. H.
Bondy, who had called them together at such an
unusual time. The lodge was as quiet as a church
between the black-draped walls with the maxims of
the craft woven in the hangings. Bondy, the Wor¬
shipful Master, was pale and thoughtful.
138
139
The Hammer and Star
“Brothers,” said the Worshipful Master after a
while, “I have summoned this unusual meeting . . .
for this . . . er . . . unusual labour, which in . . . er
. . . unusual opposition to the secret precepts of our
Order ... is no mere formality. I know . . . that I
am violating the solemn and consecrated form of
our labour ... in asking you to come to a decision
upon ... a really serious . . . and public matter
. . . of the highest importance.”
“The Worshipful Master in the Chair has the
right to order our labour,” declared the Judex
Formidabilis, causing general agitation among his
hearers.
“Well, then,” began G. H. Bondy, “it concerns
the systematic attacks . . . upon our Order recently
begun ... by the Clerical party. They state that our
secret activities ... of the last hundred years . . .
are connected with certain extraordinary . . . and
regrettable occurrences ... in the industrial and
spiritual field. The Clericalist papers assert that
the Masonic Lodges . . . have brought about . . .
deliberately . . . this unfettering of demoniacal
powers. I ask you . . . what we ought to do ... in
the present time of calamity . . . for the benefit of
mankind . . . and for the honour of the Most High.
This subject is now open for discussion.”
After a moment’s solemn silence the Junior
Warden arose.
140 The Absolute at Large
“Brothers, at this historic moment, I welcome, so
to speak, the impressive words uttered by our
Worshipful Master. He spoke, so to speak, of
regrettable occurrences. And indeed, we who con¬
cern ourselves, so to speak, only with the welfare of
mankind, are bound to declare all these regrettable
miracles, illuminations, fits of love for one’s neigh¬
bour, and other disturbances to be occurrences which
are, so to speak, in the highest degree regrettable.
We must with all the discretion we owe to our Order
decline all connection, so to speak, with these regret¬
table facts which, so to speak, do not agree with the
traditional and progressive principles of our Great
Order. Brothers, these regrettable principles are,
so to speak, in fundamental disagreement with it, as
our Worshipful Master very rightly said, since the
Clericals, so to speak, have taken up arms against
us, and if we have in mind, so to speak, the highest
interests of mankind. I therefore move that we
should express our agreement in the fullest sense of
the word, as the Worshipful Master in the Chair
very rightly said, these regrettable occurrences,”
Judex Formidabilis now rose.
“Brother Worshipful Master, I should like to say
a few words. I have to observe that certain occur¬
rences have been spoken of here in a very regrettable
manner. I am of opinion that those occurrences are
not so regrettable as our Brother Junior Warden
The Hammer and Star 14 1
thinks. I am really not aware which occurrences
Brother Junior Warden is alluding to, but if he has in
mind the religious meetings which I myself attend,
then I am of the opinion that he is mistaken. Indeed,
I will say frankly that I consider that he is entirely
in error.”
“I move,” suggested another brother, “that we
should take a vote on whether the said occurrences
are regrettable or not.”
“And I move,” said another, taking the floor,
“that we elect a smaller committee, of some three
members, say, to investigate these regrettable
occurrences.”
“I am in favour of five members.”
“I vote for twelve.”
Judex Formidabilis was heard to say, “Excuse
me, brothers, I have not yet finished speaking.”
The Worshipful Master rapped with his gavel.
“I call upon Brother Judex Formidabilis.”
“Brothers,” began Judex gently, “we will not
quarrel who is to have the floor. The occurrences
concerning which several regrettable opinions have
been expressed here are of a character that deserves
attention, interest, yes, and even respect. I do not
deny that I am a member of several religious circles
who have received divine grace in especial power. I
trust that this is not inconsistent with the discipline
of the Freemason.”
142
The Absolute at Large
“Not at all,” said several voices.
“Moreover, I have to admit that I myself have
been priviliged to perform a few minor miracles.
I think that this does not conflict with my rank and
degree.”
“Certainly not.”
“May I therefore, speaking from my own expe¬
riences, state that the aforesaid occurrences are, on
the contrary, praiseworthy, uplifting, and moral,
that they contribute to the welfare of mankind and
the glory of the Most High, and therefore — from
the Masonic standpoint — there can be no objection
to them. I move that our Lodge should declare its
neutrality with respect to all these manifestations of
the divine presence.”
The Senior Warden rose and said: “Brothers,
I certainly don’t believe in any of this stuff, and I’ve
seen nothing of it; all the same I’m in favour of
standing up for religion. I don’t think that there’s
anything in it, but is there any reason why we should
say so? I therefore move that we secretly let it be
known that we have the very best information about
the whole business, and that we approve of things
going on as they are.”
The Worshipful Master raised his eyes and said:
“I call the attention of the brethren to the fact that
the Industrial Federation has elected the Absolute
as its honorary President. Further, that the M.E.C.
143
The Hammer and Star
shares, the so-called Absolute Stock, may go up still
higher. In this connection I may say that a donor
who wishes to remain unknown has contributed one
thousand shares to the Benevolent Fund of our
Lodge. The meeting will now proceed.”
The Junior Warden announced: “I beg to with¬
draw, so to speak, the regrettable occurrences.
From the higher point of view I entirely agree. I
move that we discuss the matter from the higher
point of view.”
The Worshipful Master raised his eyes and said:
“I have to inform you that the Grand Lodge intends
to issue instructions relating to the recent occur¬
rences. The Grand Lodge recommends the Masters
to join religious circles and organize them in the
Masonic sense for the instruction of apprentices in
the craft. The new Temples are to be conducted in
an enlightened and anticlerical spirit. It is desirable
to examine the various doctrines — monism, absti¬
nence, Fletcherism, vegetarianism, and so forth.
Each circle is to be instructed in a different faith in
order to test out practically which is the best for
the welfare of mankind and for the glory of the
Most High. These activities are obligatory on all
Masters by decree of the Grand Lodge. The meet¬
ing will now proceed.”
CHAPTER XVIII
IN THE NIGHT EDITOR S ROOM
he largest Catholic or popular newspaper, The
X People’s Friend, had not a very large editorial
staff, and so at 9.30 p. m. there were only two men
in the room — Kostal, the night editor (Heaven
knows why night editors’ pipes have such an amazing
stink), and Father Jost, who sat writing the leader
for the next issue and whistling between his teeth.
At that moment Novotny, the printer, came in
with the wet proofs.
“Well, how about the leader, gentlemen, the
leader?” he growled. “When are we going to
set it?”
Father Jost stopped humming. “Ready in a
minute, Novotny,” he said quickly. “There’s just
a word I can’t get. Have we already had ‘satanic
machinations’ ?”
“The day before yesterday.”
“Aha. And has ‘treacherous onslaught’ been
used too?”
“Yes, we’ve had that.”
“ ‘Knavish imposture’ ?”
144
145
In the Night Editor’s Room
“We ran that to-day.”
“‘Impious fabrication’?”
“At least six times,” said Kostal.
“That’s a pity,” sighed Father Jost. “I think
■we’ve been a bit too lavish with our ideas. How
did you like to-day’s leader, Novotny?”
“Strong stuff,” said the printer. “But we ought
to be getting on with the setting.”
“Ready in a minute,” Father Jost replied. “I
think our friends in higher quarters were satisfied
with this morning’s issue. You’ll see, his Lordship
the Bishop will call on us. ‘Jost,’ he’ll say, ‘you let
them have it properly.’ Have we used ‘maniacal
ravings’ ?”
“Yes.”
“What a pity! We must bring up fresh guns and
blaze away. ‘Jost,’ his Lordship said to me not
long ago, ‘Up and at them ! Everything may have
its day, but we shall stand for ever and aye.’ Mr.
Novotny, can’t you think of any suitable phrase?”
“Well, couldn’t you say ‘criminal narrow-minded¬
ness’ or ‘perverse malignity’ ?”
“That would do splendidly,” said Father Jost,
with a sigh of relief. “Where do you get all these
bright ideas from, Novotny?”
“From the old files of The People’s Friend. But
that leader, your Reverence.”
“You shall have it at once. Just wait a minute:
146 The Absolute at Large
‘The criminal narrow-mindedness or perverse malig¬
nity which with the idolatries of Baal sullies the
pure waters from the rock of Peter ! — aha, now we
shan’t be long — sullies the pure waters, rock of
Peter, there we are — and sets up thereon the golden
calf whose name is the Devil or the Absolute — ’ ”
“Have you got the leader?” came a voice from
the door of the night editor’s room.
“Laudetur Jesus Christus, my Lord Bishop,”
ejaculated Father Jost.
“Have you got the leader?” repeated' Bishop
Linda, coming hurriedly into the room. “Who was
it that wrote this morning’s leader ? Heaven forgive
me, what a pretty mess you’ve made with it. What
idiot wrote it?”
“I ... I did,” stammered Father Jost, retreat¬
ing; “Bishop . . . Your Lordship ... I thought
• • •
“You’ve no right to think,” roared Bishop Linda,
his eyeglasses flashing at him eerily. “Here, take
the thing”; and crumpling up that morning’s issue
of The People’s Friend in his hand, he flung it at
Jost’s feet. “I thought! Look at him, he thinks!
Why didn’t you telephone? Why didn’t you ask
what you were to write? And you, Kostal, how
could you put it in the paper? You thought, too,
did you? Novotny!”
“Yes, sir,” exclaimed the trembling printer.
In the Night Editor’s Room 147
“Why did you have that stuff set up in type?
Did you think, too?”
“Oh, no, sir,” protested the printer. “I have to
set what they send me. . . .”
“Nobody has to do anything but what I want,”
Bishop Linda declared decisively. “Jost, sit down
and read the drivel you put together this morning.
Read it, I tell you.”
“For a long time past,” Father Jost read, in trem¬
bling tones, from his own leading article — “for a
long time past the public has been disturbed by the
knavish imposture . . .”
“What?”
“Knavish imposture, my lord,” groaned Father
Jost. “I thought — I — I see now . . .”
“What do you see?”
“That ‘knavish imposture’ is a little too forcible.”
“So I should think. Read on!”
“. . . knavish imposture carried on with the
so-called Absolute ... by means of which the
Freemasons, the Jews and other progressives are
befooling the world. It has been scientifically
demonstrated . . .”
“Look at Jost ! Look at him !” cried Bishop
Linda. “He has scientifically demonstrated some¬
thing! Read on.”
“. . . scientifically demonstrated,” stammered
the unfortunate Jost, “that the so-called Absolute
I4S
The Absolute at Large
. . . is just as impious a deception ... as the
tricks performed by mediums. . . .”
“Stop,” said the Bishop with a sudden amiability.
“Take down the following leading article: ‘It has
been scientifically demonstrated . . .’ Have you
got that? . . . ‘demonstrated that I, Father Jost,
am a jackass, a dolt and an idiot.’ . . . Have you
got that?”
“Yes,” whispered Jost, utterly bewildered.
“Please go on, my . . . my lord.”
“Throw that into the waste-paper basket, my
son,” said the Bishop, “and open your stupid ears.
Have you read to-day’s papers?”
“Yes, my 1 . . .”
“Ah, well, I don’t know. This morning, my
reverend fried, there appeared first of all a com¬
munication from the Monist Association, asserting
that the Absolute is that Unity which the Monists
have always proclaimed to be God, and that there¬
fore the cult of the Absolute is in complete corre¬
spondence with the doctrine of Monism. Did you
read that?”
“Yes.”
“There was also the announcement that the
Masonic Lodges commend the Absolute to the sup¬
port of their members. Did you read that?”
“Yes.”
“Further, that at the Synodical Congress of the
In the Night Editor’s Room 149
Lutherans, Superintendent Maartens gave a five-
hour address in which he proved the identity of the
Absolute with God made manifest. Did you read
that?”
“Yes.”
“Also that at the convention of the Seventh
International the Russian delegate, Paruskin-Reben-
feld, moved that honour should be paid to Comrade
God who had proved His sympathy for the workers
by entering the factories. It had been noted with
gratitude that the Most High Comrade had decided
to work in place of the expropriated classes. A
motion was brought forward that as a further proof
of solidarity He should begin a general strike in all
His undertakings. After the presiding officers had
deliberated in private, the motion was recalled as
premature. Did you read that?”
“Yes.”
“Finally a resolution was passed that the Absolute
was the exclusive property of the proletariat, and
that the bourgeoise had no right to do honour to
Him or to benefit by His miracles. Instructions
were given to devise a scheme for a workers’ cult of
the Absolute and to carry out secret defensive
measures in case capital should attempt to exploit
or appropriate the Absolute. Did you read that?”
“Yes.”
“There also appeared an announcement by the
150
The Absolute at Large
Free Thought Society, a notice sent in by the Salva¬
tion Army, a communique from the Theosophical
Centre ‘Adyar,’ an open letter addressed to the
Absolute and signed by the Benevolent Association
of Landlords, an announcement by the Federation
of Merry-Go-Round Proprietors, signed by the
President, J. Binder, besides The Voice of the Union
of Constance, special numbers of the Voice from the
Beyond, the Anabaptist Reader and the Abstainer —
did you read all that, my friend?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, my dear son, you see this: that in
every case they make the most solemn claim that
the Absolute is their own private property, they do
Him honour, and make Him splendid offers, appoint
Him honorary member, patron, protector, and
Heaven knows what else — and meanwhile on our
side some crazy lunatic of a Father Jost — Jost, if
you please, an insignificant object called Jost —
shouts out to the universe that it’s all a knavish
imposture and a swindle already scientifically ex¬
posed. Saints and martyrs, you’ve got us into a
pretty fix!”
“But, my lord, I had orders to . . . write
against those phenomena . . .”
“So you had,” the Bishop interrupted him sternly.
“But didn’t you see that the situation had entirely
changed? Jost,” cried the Bishop, rising to his feet,
In the Night Editor’s Room 15 1
“our churches are empty, our flock is running after
the Absolute. Jost, you blockhead, if we wish to
bring our flock back to us, we must secure the Abso¬
lute. We will set up Atomic Karburators in all our
churches . . . but that, my little priest, is above
your head. Bear in mind this one thing: the Abso¬
lute must work for us; He must be ours, i.e. He
must be ours alone. Capiscis, mi fill?”
“Capisco,” whispered Father Jost.
“Deo gratias! Now, friend Jost, now shall Saul
become Paul. You’ll write a nice little leading article
in which you will make it known that the Sacred Con¬
gregation, taking cognizance of the petitions of the
faithful, has admitted the Absolute into the bosom
of the Church. Mr. Novotny, here is the Apostolic
Letter to that effect; have it set up in large bold
type on the front page of the paper. Kostal,
announce among the local news items that Mr. G. H.
Bondy will on Sunday next receive the sacrament of
baptism at the hands of the Archbishop, and add a
few words of hearty welcome, of course, you under¬
stand? And you, Jost, sit down and write. . . .
Wait a minute; we want something really striking
to lead off with.”
“We might say something after this style, my
lord: “The criminal narrow-mindedness and the
perverse malignity of certain bodies . . .”
“Splendid 1 Then say: ‘The criminal narrow-
152 The Absolute at Large
mindedness and the perverse malignity of certain
bodies have for some months past been active in
endeavouring to mislead our people into the paths of
error. False and heretical doctrines have been pro¬
claimed to the effect that the Absolute is something
other than the selfsame God to whom we have from
the cradle raised our hands.’ . . . Have you got
that? . . . ‘raised our hands in childlike faith . . .
and love.’ . . . Have you got that? Continue . .
CHAPTER XIX
THE PROCESS OF CANONIZATION
YOU will readily understand that the admission
of the Absolute to the bosom of the Church
afforded, under the given circumstances, a great
surprise. It was carried out by virtue of the Papal
Brief alone, and the College of Cardinals, being
faced with the accomplished fact, merely deliberated
whether the sacrament of baptism should be con¬
ferred upon the Absolute. It was decided to dispense
with this. There was certainly well-known ecclesias¬
tical precedent for the baptism of a God ( vide John
the Baptist) ; but even in such a case the candidate
for baptism must be present in person. Besides,
it was a very delicate political question to decide
which reigning potentate was to be godfather to the
Absolute. The Sacred Congregation therefore
recommended that at the next Pontifical Mass the
Holy Father should pray for the new member of
the Church, and this was duly carried out in very
solemn form. It was also made part of the body of
Church doctrine that in addition to the sacrament of
baptism and baptism by blood the Church also
i53
154
The Absolute at Large
recognized baptism through works of meritorious¬
ness, and virtue.
It must also be recorded that three days before
the publication of the Papal Brief the Pope gave a
lengthy audience to G. H. Bondy, who was after¬
wards in conference with the Papal Secretary, Mon¬
signor Cullatti, for twenty-Tour hours.
Almost simultaneously the summary beatification
of the Absolute was enacted under the rule super
cultu immemorabili in recognition of the virtuous
life of the Absolute, now declared Blessed, and a
regular but expedited process of canonization was
arranged for. There was, however, one highly
important innovation: the Absolute was to be
declared, not a Saint, but a God. A Deification
Commission was immediately appointed from among
the best of the Church’s scholars and pastors.
Varesi, the Cardinal Archbishop of Venice, was
appointed Procurator Dei, while Monsignor Cullatti
was to act as Advocatus Diaboli.
Cardinal Varesi presented seventeen thousand
testimonies to miracles performed, signed by nearly
all the cardinals, patriarchs, primates, metropolitans,
princes of the Church, archbishops, principals of
Orders, and abbots. To each testimonial were
appended expert reports by medical authorities and
members of faculties, opinions from professors of
natural sciences, technicians, and economists, as well
The Process of Canonization 155
as the signatures of eye-witnesses and legal authenti¬
cations. These seventeen thousand documents,
Monsignor Varesi stated, represented but an insig¬
nificant fraction of the miracles actually performed
by the Absolute, their number having already at a
conservative estimate exceeded thirty millions.
In addition to this the Procurator Dei secured
detailed expert opinions from the greatest scientific
specialists in the world. Professor Gardien, Rector
of the medical faculty in Paris, for example, after
exhaustive researches, wrote as follows: “Seeing
that innumerable cases presented to us for examina¬
tion were from a medical standpoint completely
hopeless and scientifically incurable (paralysis, can¬
cer of the throat, blindness after surgical removal of
both eyes, lameness following on amputation of both
the lower extremities, death following on complete
separation of the head from the trunk, strangulation
in a subject hanged two days before, etc.), the
medical faculty of the Sorbonne is of the opinion
that the so-called miraculous cures in such cases can
only be ascribed either to complete ignorance of
anatomical and pathological conditions, clinical inex¬
perience, and utter incompetence in medical practice,
or — a possibility we do not wish to exclude — to the
interference of higher powers not limited by the
laws of nature or any knowledge thereof.”
Professor Meadow of Glasgow, the psychologist,
*56 The Absolute at Large
wrote: . . . Since in these activities there is
manifest what is obviously a thinking being, capable
of association, memory, and even of logical judg¬
ment, a being which performs these psychic opera¬
tions without the medium of a brain and nervous
system, it affords a striking corroboration of my
crushing criticism of the psychophysical parallelism
advocated by Professor Meyer. I affirm that the
so-called Absolute is a psychic, conscious, and intel¬
ligent being, albeit our scientific knowledge of its
nature is as yet but small.”
Professor Lupen of the Brno Technical Institute
wrote: “From the standpoint of effective perform¬
ance, the Absolute is a force deserving of the highest
respect.”
The famous chemist, Willibald of Tubingen,
wrote: “The Absolute possesses all the requisite
conditions of existence and scientific evolution, as it
is in admirable conformity with Einstein’s theory of
Relativity.”
The present chronicler will no longer detain you
with the pronouncements of the world’s scientific
luminaries; in any case they were all published in
the Acts of the Holy See.
The process of canonization went forward in
quick time. In the meantime a committee of eminent
authorities on dogma and exegesis had completed a
statement in which the identity of the Absolute with
The Process of Canonization 15 7
the Third Person of the Trinity was definitely
established on the basis of the Scriptures and the
writings of the Fathers of the Church.
But before the ceremony of deification took place,
the Patriarch of Constantinople declared, as head
of the Eastern Church, the identity of the Absolute
with the First Person of the Trinity, the Creator.
This undeniably heretical teaching was espoused by
the Old Catholics, the circumcised Christians of
Abyssinia, the Evangelicals of the Helvetian Con¬
fession, the Nonconformists, and several of the
larger American sects. This brought about a lively
theological dispute. As for the Jews, a secret doc¬
trine spread among them to the effect that the
Absolute was Baal of old; the Liberal Jews an¬
nounced that they would in that case recognize Baal.
The Free Thought Society assembled in Basle. In
the presence of two thousand delegates the Absolute
was proclaimed as the God of the Freethinkers, and
this was followed by an incredibly violent attack
upon clerics of all denominations, who, in the terms
of the resolution, “are eager to seek their own
advantage with the one scientific God and to drag
Him down into the filthy cage of ecclesiastical dogma
and priestly deception, and leave Him there to
starve.” But the God who has made Himself mani¬
fest to the eyes of every progressive modern thinker
“has nothing to do with the mediaeval traffic of these
158
The Absolute at Large
Pharisees; the Free Thought Association alone is
His congregation, and only the Basle Congress has
the right to set forth the doctrine and the ritual
of the Free Religion.”
At about the same time the German Monist
Association laid in Leipzig, with great pomp and
ceremony, the foundation-stone of the future Cathe¬
dral of the Atomic God. There was some disturb¬
ance, in which sixteen persons were injured and
Liittgen, the famous physicist, had his spectacles
smashed.
News was also received that autumn of some
religious phenomena in the Belgian Congo and in
French Senegambia. The negroes quite unexpectedly
slaughtered and ate the missionaries and bowed
down to a new idol which they called Ato or Alolto.
It afterwards appeared that these idols were atomic
motors, and that German officers and agents were in
some way implicated in the matter. On the other
hand, during the Moslem rising which broke out at
Mecca in December of the same year, several French
emissaries were found to have been present, who had
concealed twelve light atomic motors of the Aero
pattern in the neighbourhood of the Kaaba. The
ensuing rebellion of the Mohammedans in Egypt
and Tripoli, and the massacres in Arabia, cost the
lives of about thirty thousand Europeans.
The deification of the Absolute was at length
The Process of Canonization 159
accomplished in Rome on the twelfth of Decem¬
ber.
Seven thousand priests with lighted candles
escorted the Holy Father to St. Peter’s, where the
largest twelve-ton Karburator, a gift from the
M.E.C. to the Holy See, had been erected behind
the high altar. The ceremony lasted five hours, and
twelve hundred of the faithful and the spectators
were crushed to death. At the stroke of noon, the
Pope intoned the “In nomine Dei Deus,” and at the
same moment the bells of all the Catholic churches
in the world were set ringing as all the bishops and
priests turned from the altars and announced to the
world of believers: “Habemus Deum.”
CHAPTER XX
ST. KILDA
ST. Kilda is a little island, practically nothing
more than a rock of pliocene tufa far to the
west of the Hebrides. A few stunted birches, a
handful of heather and dry grass, flocks of nesting
seagulls and semi-arctic butterflies of the order
Polyommatus are all that lives on this lost outpost of
our hemisphere, out amid the endless beating of the
seas and the equally endless procession of clouds for
ever laden with rain. For that matter, St. Kilda has
always been uninhabited, is now, and will for ever
be so.
Nevertheless it was there that His Majesty’s ship
Dragon dropped anchor, towards the end of autumn.
Carpenters came off the ship with timbers and planks,
and by evening they had built a large, low wooden
house. The next day upholsterers arrived, bringing
with them the finest and most comfortable furniture.
On the third day stewards, cooks, and waiters
emerged from the depths of the ship and carried
into the building crockery, wine, preserves, and
everything that civilization has provided for rich,
fastidious, and powerful men.
160
St. Kilda 161
On the morning of the fourth day there arrived
on H.M.S. Edwin the English Premier, the Right
Hon. Sir W. O’Patterney; half an hour later came
the American Ambassador, Mr. Horatio Bumm; and
there followed him, each on a warship, the Chinese
plenipotentiary, Mr. Kei; the French Premier,
Dudieu; the Imperial Russian General, Buchtin; the
Imperial German Chancellor, Dr. Wurm; the
Italian Minister, Prince Trivelino; and the Japanese
Ambassador, Baron Yanato. Sixteen English tor¬
pedo-boats cruised around St. Kilda to prevent
newspaper reporters from landing; for this Confer¬
ence of the Supreme Council of the Great Powers,
which had been summoned in great haste by the all-
powerful Sir W. O’Patterney, was to take place
under conditions of the strictest secrecy. In fact,
the large Danish whaling schooner Nyls Hans was
torpedoed while attempting to slip through the
cordon of destroyers by night. The losses included,
in addition to the twelve men of the crew, Mr. Joe
Hashek, political correspondent of the Chicago
Tribune. Nevertheless, the representative of the
New York Herald, Mr. I. Sawitt, spent the whole
time on St. Kilda disguised as a waiter, and we are
indebted to his pen for the scanty accounts of that
memorable assembly which survived even the subse¬
quent historic catastrophes.
Mr. I. Sawitt was of the opinion that this Con-
i6i
The Absolute at Large
ference on high politics was being held in this lonely
spot in order to eliminate any direct influence of the
Absolute on its decisions. In any other place the
Absolute might well make its way into this gathering
of serious statesmen in the guise of inspiration,
enlightenment, or even miracle-working — which
would certainly be something utterly unprecedented
in high politics.
The primary purpose of the Conference was
ostensibly to reach an agreement on colonial policy.
The States were to come to an agreement not to
support or assist religious movements on the terri¬
tory of other States. The incentive to this step was
the German agitation in the Congo and Senegambia,
as well as the subterranean French influence behind
the outbreak of Mahdism in Moslem countries
under British rule, and particularly the shipments
of Karburators from Japan to Bengal, where a
furious revolt of the most diverse sects was
raging.
The deliberations were held behind closed doors.
The only news given out for publication was that
spheres of interest had been allotted to Germany in
Kurdistan and to Japan on certain Greek islands. It
would seem that the Anglo-Japanese and the Franco-
German-Russian alliances were on this occasion
unusually cordial.
In the afternoon Mr. G. H. Bondy arrived on a
St. Kilda 163
special torpedo-boat, and was received in audience
by the Supreme Council.
Not until about five o’clock (Greenwich time) did
the illustrious diplomats sit down to luncheon, and
it was here that I. Sawitt had the first opportunity
of hearing with his own ears the representatives of
the high contracting parties. After the meal they
discussed sport and actresses. Sir W. O’Patterney,
with his poet’s head with its white mane and soulful
eyes, talked enthusiastically about salmon-fishing
with His Excellency the French Premier, Dudieu,
whose energetic gestures, loud voice, and a certain
je ne sais quoi, revealed the former lawyer. Baron
Yanato, refusing all liquid refreshment, listened
silently and smiled as though his mouth were full of
water. Dr. Wurm turned over his papers, General
Buchtin walked up and down the room with Prince
Trivelino, Horatio Bumm was making cannons all
by himself on the billiard-table (I have myself seen
his lovely overhand masse stroke, which would win
the admiration of any expert), while Mr. Kei, look¬
ing like a very yellow and very withered old lady,
fingered some kind of Buddhist rosary. He was a
mandarin in his own Flowery Land.
Suddenly all the diplomats grouped themselves
round M. Dudieu, who was explaining: “Yes, gen¬
tlemen, c’est ca. We cannot remain indifferent to
Him. We must either recognize Him or deny
1 64 The Absolute at Large
Him. We Frenchmen are in favour of the latter
course !”
“That’s because He’s showing himself such an
anti-militarist in your country,’’ said Prince Trivelino
with a certain malicious pleasure.
“No, gentlemen,” cried Dudieu, “don’t deceive
yourselves on that point. The French army is quite
unaffected. Such an anti-militarist! Bah! We
already had any number of anti-militarist ! Beware
of Him, gentlemen. He is a demagogue, a com¬
munist, a bigot, Heaven knows what not, but always
a radical. Oui, un rabouliste, c’est ca. He sticks to
the wildest popular catch-words. He goes with the
mob. Now in your Highness’s country” — he turned
suddenly to Prince Trivelino — “He is a nationalist,
intoxicating Himself with dreams of a great Roman
Empire. But take care, your Highness: that’s what
He does in the cities, but in the country districts He
hobnobs with the parsons and performs miracles at
the shrines of the Virgin. He works for the Vatican
with one hand and for the Quirinal with the other.
Either there is some design in it or . . . I don’t
know what. Gentlemen, we can quite frankly admit
it : He is making things difficult for us all.”
“In my country,” said Horatio Bumm thought¬
fully, leaning on his cue, “He goes in for sport as
well. He’s a real big sportsman. He goes in for all
St. Kilda 165
sorts of games. He’s made amazing records in
sports even among chapel-folk. He’s a Socialist.
He’s on the side of the Wets. He changes water
into drink. Why, just lately, at a White House
banquet, everybody present, everybody, mind you,
got frightfully drunk. They didn’t take anything
but water, you see, but He changed it into drink
after it was down.”
“That’s queer,” said Sir W. O’Patterney. “In my
country He strikes one as much more of a Conserva¬
tive. He behaves like an omnipotent clergyman.
Holds meetings, processions, sermons in the streets,
and such things. I think He is opposed to us
Liberals.
Baron Yanato then said smilingly: “In my coun¬
try He is quite at home. A very, very nice God.
He has adapted Himself very well. Indeed, a very
great Japanese.”
“What do you mean, Japanese?” croaked out
General Buchtin. “What are you talking about,
batushko? He’s a Russian, a genuine Russian, a
Slav. With the great Russian soul, your Excellency.
He’s on the side of us moujiks. Not long ago our
Archimandrite arranged a procession in his honour :
ten thousand candles, and people, gospodin, thick as
poppy seeds. All the Christian souls of Mother
Russia had gathered together for it. He even per-
J66 The Absolute at Large
formed miracles for us. For He is our Father,”
added the General, crossing himself and bowing
low.
The German Imperial Chancellor approached,
and after listening for a while in silence, he said:
“Yes, He knows just how to appeal to the people.
In every case, He adopts the mentality of the country
He is in. Considering His age, He is . . . hm . . .
astoundingly elastic. We notice it in the countries
just around us. In Czechoslovakia, for instance, He
behaves like a colossal individualist. Everyone there
has his own Absolute all to himself, so to speak. We
ourselves have a State Absolute. With us the
Absolute immediately developed into the higher con¬
sciousness of the State. In Poland He acts like a
kind of alcohol ; with us He acts like . . . like . . .
a sort of Higher Command, verstehen sie michf>>
“Even in your Catholic provinces?” asked Prince
Trivelino with a smile.
“Those are mere local differences,” replied Dr.
Wurm. “Don’t attach any importance to them,
gentlemen. Germany is more united that ever be¬
fore. But I must thank you, Prince, for the Catholic
Karburators that you are smuggling over to us.
Fortunately they are poorly made, like all Italian
products.”
“Come, come, gentlemen,” interrupted Sir W.
O’Patterney. “Neutrality in religious questions,
St. Kilda 167
please. For my own part, I use a double hook for
salmon. The other day I caught one as long as
that, look! Fourteen pounds.”
“And what about the Papal Nuncio?” asked Dr.
Wurm quietly.
“The Holy See requests us to maintain order at
all costs. It wants us to have mysticism prohibited
by the police. That wouldn’t do in England, and
altogether. . . . Well, I assure you it weighed quite
fourteen pounds. Heavens, I had all I could do to
keep from falling into the water!”
Baron Yanato smiled still more politely. “But
we do not wish for neutrality. He is a great Japa¬
nese. The whole world can adopt the Japanese faith.
We, too, would like to send out missionaries for
once, and teach religion.”
“Baron,” said Sir W. O’Patterney gravely, “you
know that the excellent relations existing between
our Governments . . .”
“England can adopt the Japanese faith,” smiled
Baron Yanato, “and our relations will be even
better.”
“Stop, batushko,” cried General Buchtin. “We’ll
have no Japanese faith. If there’s to be any faith,
then it must be the Orthodox faith. And do you
know why? First, because it is orthodox, and
secondly, because it is Russian, and thirdly, because
our Czar so wills it, and fourthly, because we, my
1 68
The Absolute at Large
friend, have the biggest army. I do everything like
a soldier, gentlemen : downright frankly and openly.
If there’s to be a religion, then it’s to be our Ortho¬
dox religion.”
“But, gentlemen, that is not the question,” cried
Sir W. O’Patterney excitedly. “That isn’t what
we’re here for!”
“Quite right,” said Dr. Wurm. “We have to
agree upon a common line of conduct with regard
to God.”
“Which one?” suddenly asked the Chinese pleni¬
potentiary, Mr. Kei, lifting at last his wrinkled
eyelids.
“Which one?” repeated Dr. Wurm in astonish¬
ment. “Why, surely there’s only one.”
“Our Japanese God,” smiled Baron Yanato
blandly.
“The Orthodox Greek God, batushko, and none
other,” contradicted the General, as red in the face
as a turkey-cock.
“Buddha,” Mr. Kei said, and again dropped his
lids, becoming the very counterpart of a dried-up
mummy.
Sir W. O’Patterney stood up agitatedly. “Gentle¬
men,” he said, “kindly follow me.”
Thereupon the diplomats again proceeded to the
council chamber. At eight o’clock in the evening His
Excellency, General Buchtin, rushed out, purple in
169
St. Kilda
the face, and clenching his fists. After him came
Dr. Wurm, agitatedly arranging his papers. Sir W.
O’Patterney, regardless of polite usage, came out
with his hat on his head: his face was deep red;
M. Dudieu followed him in silence. Prince Trivelino
walked away looking very pale, Baron Yanato at his
heels with his perpetual smile. The last to leave was
Mr. Kei, with downcast eyes, an exceedingly long
black rosary sliding through his fingers.
This concludes the report which I. Sawitt pub¬
lished in the Herald. No official communication
concerning this Conference was given out, except
the one already mentioned relating to the spheres of
interest, and if any decision was taken it was appar¬
ently of no great value. For already, to use the
familiar gynaecological phrase, unforeseen events
were shaping themselves in the “womb of history.”
CHAPTER XXI
THE TELEGRAM
Snow was falling in the mountains. All night
through it had come down in great silent
flakes; nearly two feet deep of it lay there new-
fallen, and still the white starlets of snow floated
earthwards without a pause.
Silence lay over the forests, save that now and
then a branch would snap beneath too great a load,
and the sound would drive itself a little path through
the stillness intensified by the snow.
Then it grew colder, and from the direction of
Prussia came whistling an icy wind. The soft flakes
changed into stinging hail hurling itself straight into
your face. The fallen snow rose in sharp needle¬
points and whirled through the air. White clouds
blew down from the trees, swirled madly above the
ground, spun about, and soared up to the darkened
heavens. It was snowing upwards from the earth to
the sky.
In the depths of the forest the branches were
creaking and groaning; a tree broke and fell with
a crash, shattering the undergrowth. But abrupt
noises like these were sundered and swept away on
the whistling, booming, shrieking, rending, distracted
170
The Telegram 17 1
howl of the wind. When for an instant it ceased,
you could hear the frozen snow crunching shrilly
under your feet like powdered glass.
Above Spindelmuhl a telegraph messenger was
making his way through the storm. It was con¬
foundedly heavy going through the heaped-up snow.
The messenger had his cap fastened tight over his
ears with a red handkerchief, and had woollen gloves
on, and a gaudy scarf round his neck, and still he
was cold. “Ah, well,” he was thinking, “in another
hour and a half at any rate I’ll have crawled up to
Bear Valley, and I’ll borrow a sledge for the run
down. But what the devil possesses people to send
telegrams in filthy weather like this!”
At the Maiden’s Bridge a gust caught him and
spun him round nearly in a circle. With frozen
hands he clung to the post of the signboard set there
for tourists. “Holy Virgin!” he muttered, “this
surely can’t last!” And then across a clearing a
huge cloud-like mass of snow came whirling towards
him — coming nearer and nearer — now down upon
him ... he must hold his breath at all costs. . . .
A thousand needle-points drove into his face and
made their way inside his coat; through a little rent
in his clothing the icy particles reached his skin ; the
man was drenched beneath his frozen garments.
The cloud blew past, and the messenger felt very
much disposed to turn back to the post-office.
172
The Absolute at Large
“Marek, Engineer” — he repeated the address to
himself. “Well, he certainly don’t belong to these
parts. But a telegram’s urgent, you never know
what it’s about — one of his family, maybe, or some¬
thing important. . .
The storm calmed down a little, and the messenger
struck out across the Maiden’s Bridge and up along
the stream. The snow crunched under his heavy
boots, and his feet were frightfully cold. Once more
the wind began to howl, and great lumps of snow
fell from the trees ; the messenger caught a full load
of it on his head and under his scarf ; a trickle of icy
water ran down his back. But what plagued him
most was that his feet were slipping wickedly on the
hardened snow, and his path now ran steeply up the
slope. Next moment he was caught in a hurricane
of snow. Like a white wall it came crashing down
upon him. Before the messenger had a chance to
turn, he got the full force of it in his face; he bent
forward with the utmost effort, gasping for breath.
He took a step upward and fell. Then he sat up
with his back to the wind, but he was seized with a
dread of being buried by the snow. He got up and
tried to scramble on, but slipped again, fell on both
hands, pulled himself up again, but slid backward a
good way. He held on to the trees to steady himself,
breathing heavily. “Curse it,” he said to himself,
“I’ve got to get up there somehow.”
i73
The Telegram
He managed to take a few steps, but fell once
more, and slid downwards on his stomach. He began
to crawl on all fours. His gloves were wet, the snow
was inside his leggings, but he must push on. Any¬
thing rather than stay there ! Melting snow and
sweat poured down his cheeks. He could not see for
the driving snow, and it looked as though he had
lost his way; it made him weep aloud as he crept
toilsomely upward. But it was hard work crawling
along on all fours in a long coat; he stood up again
and stepped forward, battling with the blizzard.
For every half-step he made forward he slipped two
steps back; he did climb a little farther, but then
his feet flew out from under him, and he slid down¬
ward with his face buried in the prickly snow. When
he picked himself up, he found that he had lost his
stick.
Meanwhile clouds of snow were flying over the
mountains, massing on the rocks, hissing, bellowing,
roaring. The messenger sobbed aloud, gasping with
terror and exertion; he climbed on, stopped, took
another step and another, halted, turned his back
to the wind and took a deep breath through his
burning mouth, and then — O Christ in Heaven! —
took one step more. He held on to a tree. What
was the time? With the greatest effort he drew out
his turnip watch in its transparent yellow case.
It was encrusted with snow. Perhaps darkness was
174
The Absolute at Large
coming on. Should he turn back? But he couldn’t
have far to go now 1
The fitful gale had changed into a steady blizzard.
Clouds rolled along the slope, a dark and dirty mist
full of hurtling sleet. The snow rushed down hori¬
zontally, straight into his face, blocking up the eyes,
nose and mouth; with wet frozen fingers it had to be
dug, half melted, from the cavities of the ears and
eyes. The front of the messenger’s body was
covered with a layer of snow two inches thick; his
coat was rigid, as stiff and heavy as a board — you
could not bend it; the cakes of snow on his boot-soles
grew bigger and heavier with every step. And in
the forest it was getting dark. And yet, good
heavens, it was barely two in the afternoon !
Suddenly a greenish-yellow darkness poured over
the forest, and the snow gushed down like a cloud¬
burst. Flakes the size of your hand, wet and heavy,
flew whirling by so thickly that the dividing line
between earth and air was lost. A man cannot see
a step in front of him. He breathes the flakes in,
wades on through the roaring blizzard that dashes
high over his head, pushes on blindly as if he were
cutting a little passage down there under the snow.
He has but one overmastering instinct — to push on.
He yearns for one thing only — to breathe something
other than snow. He can no longer lift his feet from
the snow ; he drags them through the drifts reaching
The Telegram J7 5
half-way to his hips ; he makes a track which instantly
closes up behind him.
Meanwhile in the cities far below a few sparse
flakes fluttered down to be melted into black mud.
The lights were lit in the shops, the cafes were all
aglow, people sat around under the electric globes
and grumbled what a miserable gloomy day it was.
Numberless lights were ablaze all over the great
city, sparkling in the watery mire.
One solitary glimmer shone over the storm-swept
field on the mountain. It pierced with difficulty
through the falling snow, wavered up and down,
and nearly expired; nevertheless, it was there, still
shining. There was a light in the Hut in Bear
Valley.
It was five o’clock, and therefore pitch-dark, when
a shapeless something stopped in front of the Hut
in Bear Valley. That “something” spread out its
thick white wings and began to beat its body with
them and peel off a coating of snow four inches
thick. Beneath the snow a coat became visible, and
below the coat two feet, and these feet stamped on
the stone door-step, till great lumps of snow dropped
from them. It was the messenger from Spindelmuhl.
He entered the hut and saw a thin gentleman
sitting at the table. He tried to utter a greeting,
but his voice failed him completely. It only made
a little wheezing noise like that of escaping steam.
The Absolute at Large
The other man rose : “My good man, what the
devil brings you here in a blizzard like this? Why,
you might never have got through alive!”
The messenger nodded and gurgled.
“If it isn’t absolute madness !” growled the other,
and told the servant to bring some tea. “Well,
where were you making for, then, dad? Martin’s
Hut?”
The messenger shook his head and opened his
leather pouch; it was full of snow; he took out a
telegram frozen so stiff that it crackled.
“Bha, bha, Bharek?” he croaked out hoarsely.
“What do you say?” asked the other.
“Is . . . anyone . . . here . . . named . . .
Mar . . . ek, an . . . Eng . . . i . . . neer?”
the messenger stammered out with a reproachful
look.
“That’s me,” the thin gentlemen cried. “Have
you something for me? Let me see it, quick!”
Marek tore open the telegram. It read*
“Your predictions confirmed. Bondy.”
Nothing more.
CHAPTER XXII
THE OLD PATRIOT
IN the Prague office of the People’s Journal every¬
one was working at top speed. The telephone
operator was yelling furiously into the telephone
and quarrelling with the young lady at the Exchange.
Scissors clicked and typewriters clattered, and Mr.
Cyril Keval sat on the table and dangled his legs.
“I say, they’re holding a meeting at Vaclavak,”
he said in a low voice. “Some Communist’s up there
preaching voluntary poverty. He’s haranguing the
people, telling them they ought to be like the lilies
of the field. He’s got a beard right down to his
waist. What a frightful lot of long-bearded chaps
there are about nowadays ! All looking like
apostles.”
“Mhm,” answered old Rejzek, turning over the
papers from the Czechoslovak Press Bureau.
“What makes their beards grow so long?” Mr.
Keval ruminated. “I say, Rejzek, I do believe the
Absolute has something to do with that as well.
Golly, Rejzek, I’m afraid of something of the sort
growing on me. Just imagine it, right down to the
waist I”
177
i78 The Absolute at Large
“Mhm,” Mr. Rejzek said ponderously.
“The Free Thought Society is holding a service
in Havlicek Square to-day. Father Novacek is per¬
forming miracles in Tyl Square. There’s sure to be
a row between them, you’ll see. Yesterday Novacek
healed a man who had been lame from birth. Then
they had a procession, and just think, the fellow
who’d been lame gave a Jew an awful hiding. Broke
three of his ribs or more. He was a Zionist, see.”
“Mhm,” remarked Mr. Rejzek, marking some
items of news.
“There’s certain to be a dust-up to-day, Rejzek,”
Keval expatiated. “The Progressives are holding a
meeting in the Old Town Square. They’ve trotted
out ‘Away from Rome’ again. And Father Novacek
is organizing the Maccabeans; you know, a sort of
Catholic armed guard. You wait, there will be a
scrimmage. The Archbishop has forbidden Novacek
to perform miracles, but his Reverence is like one
possessed; he even goes and raises the dead.”
“Mhm,” said Mr. Rejzek, and went on marking
copy.
“I had a letter from my mother,” Cyril Keval
confided in subdued tones. “At home in Moravia,
you know, near Hustopec and thereabouts, they’re
simply raving mad with the Czechs — say they’re
heathen and heretics and idolaters and want to set
up new gods, and all that stuff. They’ve shot a
i79
The Old Patriot
gamekeeper there because he was a Czech. I tell
you, Rejzek, things are fairly seething everywhere.”
“Mhm,” came Mr. Rejzek’s sign of acquiescence.
“They’ve even gone for each other in the syna¬
gogue,” continued Mr. Keval. “The Zionists gave
the people who believe in Baal a fearful licking.
There were even three people killed. And have you
heard about the split among the Communists? There
you are, I nearly forgot about it; that’s another
grand mix-up. Now we’re going to have the mystic
Communists, a sort of left wing; then the Christians,
Marians, Scientists, Resurrectionites, textile Knights
of St. John, iron Knights, miner Knights, and about
seven other parties. Now they’re squabbling about
the sick benefit funds and the workmen’s dwellings.
Just wait, I’m going to slip over to Hybernska Street
this afternoon. My boy, the garrison was confined
to barracks this afternoon; but in the meantime the
Vrsovice barracks have sent an ultimatum to the
Cernin barracks calling on them to recognize the
Vrsovice dogma of the Three Degrees of Salvation.
If they don’t accept the doctrine, they are to report
for battle at Sandberk. The Dejvice artillerymen
have gone to the Cernin barracks to disband. The
Vrsovice garrison has barricaded itself in, the sol¬
diers have planted machine-guns in the windows and
declared war. They are being besieged by the
Seventh Dragoons, the Castle Guard, and four light
i8o The Absolute at Large
batteries. They’ve been given six hours, then the
firing will begin. Rejzek, it’s a real pleasure to be
alive in these days.”
“Mhm,” said Mr. Rejzek.
“Yes, and at the University to-day,” Keval went
on quietly, “the natural science faculty and the his¬
tory faculty came to blows. You know, the natural
science faculty, being rather pantheistic, so to speak,
disputes the Revelation. The professors conducted
the fight, and Deal Radi himself carried the flag.
The historians fortified the University Library in
the Klementinum and defended themselves desper¬
ately, armed with books. Dean Radi got hit on the
head with a bound volume of Velenovsky and was
killed on the spot. Probably concussion of the brain.
The Rector, Arne Novak, was seriously injured by a
volume of Invention and Progress. Finally the
historians buried the attacking party under the
Collected Works of Jan Vrba. Now the sappers are
at work on the scene of the battle, and so far they’ve
recovered seven corpses, among them three lecturers.
I don’t think there were more than thirty buried
though.”
“Mhm,” observed Mr. Rejzek.
“Then there’s the Sparta Club, my boy,” Keval
rattled on with mild enthusiasm. “The Sparta has
proclaimed that the only God is the Greek Zeus,
whereas the Slavia votes for Svantovit, the old sun-
The Old Patriot 18 1
god. On Sunday there’s to be a match between the
two Gods on the Letna. Besides their footballs, both
clubs will bring hand-grenades, and the Slavia will
also have machine-guns and the Sparta a twelve-
centimetre gun. There’s a terriffic rush for tickets.
The supporters of both clubs will be armed.
Rejzek, believe me, there will be a shindy! I bet
Zeus will win.”
“Mhm,” said Mr. Rejzek, “but now you might
have a look at the post.”
“Well, I don’t care,” cried Cyril Keval. “A man
can get used even to a God, can’t he? What’s the
latest from the Press Bureau?”
“Nothing special,” growled Mr. Rejzek. “Blood¬
shed at demonstrations in Rome. They’re going for
each other in Ulster — you know, the Irish Catholics.
The St. Kilda agreement is being repudiated all
round. Pogroms in Budapest; a schism in France —
the Waldenses have bobbed up there again, and the
Anabaptists in Munster. At Bologna an Anti-Pope
has been elected, one Father Martin of the Barefoot
Friars. And so on. Nothing of local interest.
Have a look at the letters, will you.”
Cyril Keval stopped talking and began opening
the letters. There were a few hundred of them, but
he had hardly read half a dozen when he was off
once more.
“Look here, Rejzek,” he began, “it’s the same
182
The Absolute at Large
tale all the way through. Take this one for instance:
From Chrudim. Dear Sir, — As an old subscriber to
your esteemed journal, your readers and the whole
of the public who are now being harassed by un¬
profitable disputes” — (‘Tie’s left out ‘will be inter¬
ested,’ ” interpolated Mr. Keval) — “ ‘in the remark¬
able miracle performed by our local pastor, the Rev.
Father Zakoupil.’ And so on. In Jicin it was the
storekeeper of the Co-operative Society, and in
Benesov it was the superintendent of schools. In
Chotebor it was even the widow Jirak, who keeps a
tobacco shop. Have I to read all this stuff?”
Work went on again in silence for a while.
“Damn it, Rejzek,” Keval burst out again, “I say,
do you know what would be a real sensation? A
giant gooseberry? A lovely canard? Why, if some¬
thing were to happen quite in the natural way, with¬
out any miracle about it. But I don’t think anyone
would believe us. Wait a bit, I’ll try to think up
something natural.”
Again there was a brief period of quiet.
“Rejzek,” cried Keval mournfully, “I simply can’t
think up anything natural. When I think it over,
everything is a miracle really. Whatever is, is a
sort of magic.”
Just then the editor-in-chief entered.
“Who did the cuttings from the Tribune? Here’s
a story in it that we haven’t got.”
The Old Patriot 183
“What sort of a story,” asked Mr. Rejzek.
“In the Finance and Commerce Section. An
American combine has bought up the Pacific Islands
and is subletting them. A tiny coral atoll costs fifty
thousand dollars a year. Big demand even from
the Continent of Europe. Shares have gone up to
two thousand seven hundred already. G. H. Bondy
interested to the extent of one hundred and twenty
millions. And we haven’t got a word about it,”
said the editor-in-chief angrily, and slammed the
door behind him.
“Rejzek,” cried Keval, “here’s an interesting
letter: ‘Dear Sir, — Forgive an old patriot, who can
remember the evil times of oppression and the dark
days of serfdom, if he raises a plaintive voice and
begs you to use your skilful pen to make known to
the Czech people the grief and sore anxiety we old
patriots feel . . .’ and so on. Farther on he says:
‘In our ancient and glorious nation we see brother
egged on against brother; innumerable parties, sects,
and churches struggling together like wolves and
destroying each other in their mutual hatred’ — (must
be some very old chap; his writing is terribly shaky)
— ‘while our ancient enemy prowls around us like
a roaring lion, filling the minds of our people with
the German watchword of “Away from Rome,” and
supported by those mistaken patriots who set the
interests of their party before the national unity for
i84 The Absolute at Large
which we yearn. And we behold with anguish and
sorrow the prospect of a new battle of Lipany, where
Czech ranged against Czech under the cloak of
different religious watchwords, will be left lying on
the bloody field. And so, alas, the words of the
Scriptures about a kingdom divided against itself
will be fulfilled. And there shall be piercing and
felling of many, as it is written in our own glorious
and authentic cycles of chivalry.’ ”
“That’s enough,” said Mr. Rejzek.
“Wait a bit; here he talks about the hypertrophy
of parties and churches. It is a hereditary Czech
disease, he says. ‘Of this there cannot be the slight¬
est doubt, as Dr. Kramar used to say. And there¬
fore, I solemnly adjure you at this twelfth hour,
when great and terrible dangers confront us on
every hand, to urge our people to band themselves
together in a union of the whole nation for the
defence of our country. If a religious bond be
necessary for this union, then let us be neither
Protestants nor Catholics nor Monists nor Ab¬
stainers, but let us adopt a single, Slav, powerful, and
brotherly Orthodox faith, which will unite us in
one great Slav family and will secure for us in these
stormy times the protection of a powerful Slav ruler.
Those who will not freely and whole-heartedly pay
allegiance to this glorious pan-Slav ideal should be
forced by Government authority, yea, and by every
The Old Patriot 185
form of compulsion permissible in these exceptional
circumstances, to abandon their partisan and sec¬
tarian interests in favour of the union of the whole
nation.’ And so on. Signed ‘An Old Patriot.’
What do you say to that?”
“Nothing,” said Mr. Rejzek.
“I think that there’s something in it,” Mr. Keval
began; but just then the telephone operator entered
and said, “Munich on the ’phone. Some sort of civil
or religious war broke out in Germany yesterday.
Is it worth putting in the paper?”
CHAPTER XXIII
THE AUGSBURG IMBROGLIC
By ii p. in. the following telephonic communi¬
cations had been received at the office of the
People’s Journal: —
Czech Press Bureau. From Munich , 12th inst. —
According to the Wolff Telegraph Agency, the demonstra¬
tions in Augsburg yesterday led to bloodshed. Seventy
Protestants were killed. The demonstrations are still in
progress.
Czech Press Bureau. From Berlin, 12th inst. — It is
officially announced that the number of killed and wounded
at Augsburg does not exceed twelve. The police are main¬
taining order.
Special Message. From Lugano, 12th inst. — We learn
from a reliable source that the number of victims at Augsburg
is over five thousand. Railway communication with the north
is suspended. The Bavarian Ministry is in permanent session.
The German Emperor has broken off his hunting trip and is
returning to Berlin.
Czech Press Bureau. Reuter, 12th inst. — At 3 a. m.
to-day the Bavarian Government declared a Holy War on
Prussia.
By the following day Mr. Cyril Keval was already
in Bavaria. From his comparatively trustworthy
reports we make the following excerpts: —
186
I
The Augsburg Imbroglio 187
At 6 p.m. on the ioth instant the Catholic workmen in
the Scholler lead-pencil factory at Augsburg gave the
Protestant foreman a beating, the provocation being some
dispute relating to the worship of the Virgin. Quiet pre¬
vailed at night, but at io a.m. on the following day the
Catholic workmen came out in all departments noisily de¬
manding the discharge of all Protestant employees. Scholler,
the owner of the factory, was killed, and two directors were
stabbed. The clergy were compelled by force to carry the
monstrance at the head of the procession. The Archbishop,
Dr. Lenz, who came out to pacify the demonstrators, was
thrown into the River Lech. The Social-Democratic leaders
attempted to speak, but were forced to take refuge in the
synagogue. At 3 p.m. the synagogue was blown up with
dynamite. While the looting of Jewish and Protestant shops
went on, accompanied by some shooting and numerous con¬
flagrations, the City Council carried unanimously the Im¬
maculate Conception of the Virgin Mary, and issued an
impassioned appeal to the Catholic nations of the world to
take up the sword in defence of the Holy Catholic Faith.
Upon the receipt of this news various manifestos were issued
in other Bavarian cities. In Munich a Popular Assembly
was held at 7 p.m., which amid the wildest enthusiasm passed
a resolution for the secession of the Southern States from the
German Empire. The Munich Government wired Berlin
that it was taking over the administration. The Imperial
Chancellor, Dr. Wurm, immediately called on the Minister
of War, who ordered ten thousand bayonets to Bavaria from
the garrisons of Saxony and the Rhineland. At 1 a.m. these
troop trains were blown up on the line at the Bavarian
frontier, and machine guns were turned upon the wounded.
At 3 a.m. the Munich Government, in alliance with the
Alpine provinces, decided to proclaim a Holy War on the
Lutherans.
It would seem that hopes of a peaceful solution of the
whole misunderstanding have not yet been abandoned in
1 8 8
The Absolute at Large
Berlin. At this moment the Emperor is still delivering his
speech in Parliament, declaring that he knows neither
Catholics nor Protestants, but only Germans. The North
German forces are said to be concentrated along the Erfurt-
Gotha-Kassel line. The Catholic forces are advancing in
the general direction of Zwickau and Rudolfstadt, meeting
with no opposition but that of the civilian population. The
town of Greiz has been burned down and the citizens either
killed or dragged into slavery. The reports of a great battle
have not so far been confirmed. Refugees from Bayreuth
state that the firing of heavy artillery could be heard from
the north. The railway station at Madgeburg is said to have
been blown up by the bombs of Bavarian airmen. Weimar
is on fire.
Indescribable enthusiasm prevails here in Munich. At¬
testation commissions are at work in all the schools; crowds
of volunteers wait as long as twenty hours in the streets.
The heads of twenty decapitated pastors are exposed on the
Rathaus. The Catholic clergy have to serve mass day and
night in overcrowded churches ; the Reverend Father Gross-
hube, who was also a member of Parliament, died of exhaus¬
tion at the altar. Jews, Monists, Abstinents, and other
heretics have barricaded themselves in their houses. Rosen¬
heim, the banker, the oldest member of the Jewish com¬
munity, was publicly burned at the stake this morning.
The Dutch and Danish ambassadors have asked for their
passports. The American representative has lodged a protest
against the disturbance of the peace; on the other hand, the
Italian Government has assured Bavaria of its particularly
benevolent neutrality.
Bands of recruits march through the streets carrying flags
with a white cross on a red ground, and shouting “God wills
it.” Ladies are entering the nursing service and getting
hospitals ready. Business houses are for the most part closed.
So is the Stock Exchange.
The Augsburg Imbroglio 189
That was on the 14th of February. On the 15th
fairly heavy fighting took place on both banks of the
Werre, the Protestant forces yielding a little ground.
On the same day the first shots were also fired on
the Dutch-Belgian frontier. England ordered the
mobilization of the fleet.
On the 1 6th of February Italy granted free
passage to the Spanish army despatched to the aid
of the Bavarians. The Tyrolese peasants, armed
with scythes, attacked the Helvetian Swiss.
On the 1 8th of February, the Anti-Pope Martin
cabled his blessing to the Bavarian army. An inde¬
cisive battle took place at Meiningen. Russia de¬
clared war on the Polish Catholics.
February 19th: Ireland declared war on Eng¬
land. An opposition Caliph made his appearance
at Broussa, and unfurled the green banner of the
Prophet. Mobilization of the Balkan States, and
massacres in Macedonia.
February 23rd: The North German front
pierced. General revolt in India. Proclamation of
a Holy War by the Moslems on the Christians.
February 27th: The Greek-Italian war, and the
first encounters on Albanian soil.
March 3rd: The Japanese fleet sailed eastward
against the United States of America.
March 15th: The Crusaders (Catholics) took
Berlin. Meanwhile the Union of Protestant States
*9° The Absolute at Large
was proclaimed at Stettin. The German Emperor,
Kaspar I, assumed command in person.
March 16th: A Chinese army, two million
strong, poured over the Siberian and Manchurian
frontiers. The army of the Anti-Pope Martin
took Rome by storm. Pope Urban fled to Portu¬
gal.
March 1 8 th : Spain demanded that the Lisbon
Government should deliver up Pope Urban; refusal
followed ipso facto by war between Spain and
Portugal.
March 26th: The South American States pre¬
sented an ultimatum to the North American Union,
demanding the repeal of Prohibition and the aboli¬
tion of religious liberty.
March 27th: The Japanese fleet landed troops
in California and British Columbia.
On April 1st the world situation was approxi¬
mately as follows: In Central Europe the great
world-conflict between the Catholics and Protestants
was running its course. The Protestant Union had
forced back the Crusaders out of Berlin, had got a
firm hold on Saxony, and had occupied even the
neutral territory of Czechoslovakia. The City of
Prague was, by a peculiar coincidence, under the
command of the Swedish Major-General Wrangel,
possibly a descendant of the general of the same
name who figured in the Thirty Years’ War. On
The Augsburg Imbroglio 191
the other hand, the Crusaders had made themselves
masters of Holland, which they had flooded by
breaking the dykes and letting in the sea, as well as
of Hanover and Holstein as far as Liibeck, whence
they were making inroads on Denmark. No quarter
was given in the fighting. Cities were razed to the
ground, the men killed, and women up to the age of
fifty violated. But the first things destroyed in
every case were the enemy Karburators. Contem¬
poraries of these inordinately bloody struggles
assure us that supernatural powers were fighting on
both sides. Often it seemed as though an invisible
hand seized hostile aircraft and dashed them to the
ground, or intercepted in its flight a fifty-four centi¬
metre projectile weighing a ton and hurled it back
upon its own ranks. Particularly horrible were the
scenes enacted during the destruction of the Kar¬
burators. As soon as the enemy position was
occupied, there ensued an invisible but desperate
struggle round the local Karburators. At times it
was like a cyclone which wrecked and scattered the
whole building in which an atomic boiler stood, like
someone blowing on a heap of feathers. Bricks,
timbers and tiles flew round in wild confusion, and
the contest usually ended in a frightful explosion
which felled every tree and structure within a radius
of twelve kilometres and scooped out a crater over
two hundred metres deep. The force of the detona-
192 The Absolute at Large
tion naturally varied according to the size of the
exploding Karburator.
Suffocating gases spread over a radius of three
hundred kilometres, utterly blasting all vegetation;
however, as these creeping clouds several times
turned back upon their own ranks — through the
strategical intervention of supernatural powers —
this very unreliable method of warfare was aban¬
doned. It was apparent that while the Absolute
attacked on one side, it also defended itself on the
other. It introduced unheard-of weapons into war¬
fare — earthquakes, cyclones, showers of sulphur,
inundations, angels, pestilence, famines, plagues of
locusts, etc. — till there was no alternative but to
alter the art of military stategy altogether. Mass
attacks, permanent entrenchments, open order,
strong points, and such-like nonsense, were aban¬
doned; every soldier received a knife, some cart¬
ridges, and some bombs, and with these he went
off on his own to kill any soldier who wore on his
breast a cross of a different colour. It was not a
matter of two armies confronting each other. There
was simply a particular country which was the battle¬
field, and there the two armies moved about promis¬
cuously, killing one another off, man for man, until
finally it became clear to whom that country now
belonged. It was a terribly murderous method, to
The Augsburg Imbroglio 193
be sure, but it had ultimately, in the long run, a
certain conclusiveness.
Such was the situation in Central Europe. At the
beginning of April the Protestant armies were enter¬
ing Austria and Bavaria by way of Czechoslovakia,
while the Catholics were overrunning Denmark and
Pomerania. Holland, as already stated, had com¬
pletely vanished from the map of Europe.
In Italy internal warfare was raging between the
parties of Urban and Martin: meanwhile Sicily fell
into the hands of the Greek Evzones. The Portu¬
guese occupied Austria and Castile, but lost their
own Estramadura ; in the South as a whole the war
was waged with quite exceptional ferocity.
England had been fighting on Irish soil and then
in the colonies. By the beginning of April she held
only the coastline of Egypt. The other colonies
had been lost, and the settlers killed by the natives.
With the aid of the Arabians, Sudanese, and Persian
armies the Turks had overwhelmed the entire Balkan
region, and had made themselves masters of Hun¬
gary, when the schism broke out between the Shiahs
and the Sunnis on what was apparently a very im¬
portant question concerning Ali, the fourth Caliph.
Both sects pursued each other from Constantinople
to the Carpathians with a zeal and bloodthirstiness
which unfortunately also vented itself upon the
i94 The Absolute at Large
Christians. And so in this part of Europe things
were worse than anywhere else.
Poland vanished, being wiped out of existence by
the Russian armies. The Russian hosts then turned
to face the Yellow invasion which was sweeping
northward and westward. Meanwhile ten Japanese
army corps had been landed in North America.
You will notice that no mention has yet been made
of France, the chronicler having reserved that coun¬
try for Chapter XXIV.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE NAPOLEON OF THE MOUNTAIN BRIGADE
Bobinet, if you please, Toni Bobinet, the twenty-
two-year-old lieutenant of mountain artillery,
attached to the garrison of Annecy (Haute Savoie),
but at present on six weeks’ manoeuvres on the
Needles (Les Aiguilles), from which on a clear day
one can see in the west the lakes of Annecy and
Geneva, and in the east the blunted ridge of the
Bonne Montagne and the peaks of Mont Blanc —
do you know your way about now? Well, then,
Lieutenant Toni Bobinet sat on a boulder and tugged
at his tiny moustache, first because he was bored,
and secondly because he had read a newspaper two
weeks old right through for the fifth time, and was
now thinking things over.
At this point the chronicler ought to follow the
meditations of the prospective Napoleon, but in the
meantime his glance (the chronicler’s, that is) had
slid along the snow-covered slopes to the gorge of
the Arly, where the thaw had already set in, and
where his eye is caught and held by the tiny little
towns of Megeve, Flumet, and Ugines, with their
195
196 The Absolute at Large
pointed churches looking like toys. Ah, the memories
of long-vanished childhood! The castles in the air
one reared with one’s box of bricks !
Meanwhile Lieutenant Bobinet . . . but no. Let
us abandon any attempt to psychologize great men,
to express the titanic idea in the germ from which
it sprang. We are not equal to the task, and if we
were, we should perhaps be disappointed. Just pic¬
ture to yourself this little Lieutenant Bobinet sitting
on Les Aiguilles with Europe falling into ruin all
about him — a battery of mountain guns in front of
him, and below him a miniature world which could
easily be shot to pieces from where he sat. Imagine
that he has just read in an old copy of the Annecy
Moniteur the leading article in which some M.
Babillard calls for the strong hand of a helmsman
who will steer the good ship France out of the raging
storm toward new power and glory; and that up
there, at a height of over two thousand metres, the
air is pure and free from the Absolute, so that one
can think clearly and freely. Picture all this, and
you will understand how it was that Lieutenant
Bobinet, sitting there on his rock, first grew very
thoughtful and then wrote his venerable, wrinkled,
white-haired mother a somewhat confused letter,
assuring her that “she would soon be hearing of her
Toni,” and that Toni had “a magnificent idea.”
After that he saw to one thing and another, had a
Napoleon of Mountain Brigade 197
good night’s sleep, and in the morning assembled all
the soldiers of his battery, deposed the incompetent
old captain, took possession of the military post at
Sallanches, declared war on the Absolute with
Napoleonic brevity, and went to sleep again. The
following day he shot to pieces the Karburator in the
bakery at Thones, occupied the railway station of
Bonneville, and seized the command at Annecy, hav¬
ing by this time three thousand men under him.
Within a week he had destroyed over two hundred
Karburators and was leading fifteen thousand
bayonets and sabres against Grenoble. He was pro¬
claimed commandant of Grenoble, and now had a
small army of forty thousand men at his back, with
which he descended into the valley of the Rhone and
busied himself in painstakingly clearing the sur¬
rounding territory of all atomic motors by means of
his long-range guns. On the road to Chambery he
captured the Minister for War, who was hurrying in
his motor-car to put Bobinet back in his place. The
Minister for War was so captivated and convinced
by Bobinet’s plans that he made him a General on
the following day. On April ist the city of Lyons
was completely cleansed of every trace of the
Absolute.
Up to this point Bobinet’s triumphant progress
had not been attended by bloodshed. He met with
his first opposition from ardent Catholics beyond
i98 The Absolute at Large
the Loire, and sanguinary engagements took place.
Fortunately for Bobinet, many Frenchmen had re¬
mained sceptics, even in communities completely
saturated with the Absolute, and indeed showed
themselves wildly fanatical in their unbelief and
rationalism. After cruel massacres and new St.
Bartholomew’s Eves “les Bobinets” were welcomed
everywhere as liberators, and everywhere they went
they succeeded in pacifying the populace after
destroying all the Karburators.
And so it befell that as early as July, Parliament
proclaimed that Toni Bobinet had deserved well
of his country and raised him to the dignity of First
Consul with the title of Marshal. France was con¬
solidated. Bobinet introduced State atheism; any
sort of religious demonstration was punishable by
court-martial with death.
We cannot refrain from mentioning a few episodes
in the great man’s career.
Bobinet and his Mother. — One day Bobinet
was holding council at Versailles with his General
Staff. As the day was hot, he had taken his place
by an open window. Suddenly he noticed an aged
woman in the park, warming herself in the sun.
Bobinet at once interrupted Marshal Jollivet with a
cry of “Look, gentlemen ... my mother!” All
present, even the most hardened generals, were
Napoleon of Mountain Brigade 199
moved to tears by this demonstration of filial
affection.
Bobinet and Love of Country. — On one occa¬
sion Bobinet was holding a military review on the
Champ de Mars in a downpour of rain. While the
heavy howitzers were passing before him, an army
motor ran into a large puddle of water which
spurted up and bespattered Bobinet’s cloak. Marshal
Jollivet wished to punish the commander of the
unfortunate battery by reducing him in rank on the
spot. But Bobinet restrained him, saying, “Let him
alone, Marshal. After all, this is the mud of
France !”
Bobinet and the Old Pensioner. — Bobinet
was once driving out incognito to Chartres. On
the way a tyre burst, and while the chauffeur was
putting on a new one, a one-legged pensioner came
up and asked for alms.
“Where did this man lose his leg?” asked Bobinet.
The old pensioner related that he had lost it
while serving in Indo-China. He had a poor old
mother, and there were often days when neither of
them had a bite to eat.
“Marshal, take this man’s name,” said Bobinet,
deeply affected. And sure enough a week later there
came a knock at the door of the old pensioner’s hut;
2CK
The Absolute at Large
it was Bobinet’s personal courier, who handed the
hapless cripple a packet “from the First Consul.”
Who can describe the surprise and delight of the
old soldier when upon opening the packet he found
inside it the Bronze Medal!
Thanks to a character of such striking qualities,
it is not surprising that Bobinet finally consented to
gratify the fervent desire of the whole nation, and
on the 14th of August proclaimed himself, amid
universal enthusiasm, Emperor of the French.
The whole world thus entered upon a period
which, though anything but peaceful, was to be
glorious in history. Every quarter of the globe
literally blazed with heroic feats of arms. Seen from
Mars, our earth must certainly have shone like a
star of the first magnitude, from which the Martian
astronomers doubtless concluded that we were still
in a condition of glowing heat. You can well believe
that chivalrous France and her representative, the
Emperor Toni Bobinet, did not play a minor role.
Perhaps, too, such remnants of the Absolute as had
not yet escaped into space were at work here, awak¬
ening a spirit of exaltation and fervour. At any
rate, when the great Emperor proclaimed, two days
after his coronation, that the hour had come for
France to cover the whole earth with her banner, a
unanimous roar of enthusiasm gave him his answer.
Napoleon of Mountain Brigade 201
Bobinet’s plan was the following: —
1. To occupy Spain, and by taking Gibraltar
secure the key to the Mediterranean Sea.
2. To occupy the Danube valley as far as Buda¬
pest as the key to the interior of Europe.
3. To occupy Denmark as the key to the North
Sea area.
»
And since territorial keys have usually to be
smeared with blood, France fitted out three armies
which won for her tremendous glory.
The fourth army occupied Asia Minor as the key
to the East.
The fifth army made itself master of the mouth of
the St. Lawrence as the key to America.
The sixth army went down in the naval battle off
the English coast.
The seventh army laid seige to Sebastopol.
By New Year’s Eve, 1944, the Emperor Bobinet
had all his keys in the pocket of his artillery breeches.
CHAPTER XXV
THE SO-CALLED GREATEST WAR
IT is a foible of our human nature that when we
have an extremely unpleasant experience, it
gives up a peculiar satisfaction if it is “the biggest”
of its disagreeable kind that has happened since the
world began. During a heat wave, for instance, we
are very pleased if the papers announce that it is
“the highest temperature reached since the year
1 88 1,” and we feel a little resentment towards the
year 1881 for having gone us one better. Or if our
ears are frozen till all the skin peels off, it fills us
with a certain happiness to learn that “it was the
hardest frost recorded since 1786.” It is just the
same with wars. The war in progress is either the
most righteous or the bloodiest, or the most success¬
ful, or the longest, since such and such a time; any
superlative whatever always affords us the proud
satisfaction of having been through something
extraordinary and record-breaking.
Well, the war which lasted from February 12,
1944, to the autumn of 1953, was in all truthfulness
and without exaggeration (on my honour!) the
Greatest War. Do not let us rob those who lived
202
The So-called Greatest War 203
through it of this one solitary and well-earned satis¬
faction. 198,000,000 men took part in the fighting,
and all but thirteen of them fell. I could give you
figures by which accountants and statisticians have
attempted to illustrate these enormous losses — for
instance, how many thousand kilometres the bodies
would stretch if laid one beside the other, and for
how many hours an express train would have to run
if the bodies were put on the line in place of sleepers ;
or if the index fingers of all the fallen were cut off
and put in sardine-tins, how many hundred goods
trucks could be filled with such a load, and so on.
But I have a poor memory for figures, and I don’t
want to cheat you out of a single miserable statistical
truck-load. So I repeat that it was the greatest war
since the creation of the world, whether you take into
consideration the loss of life or the extent of the
theatre of war.
Once again the present chronicler has to excuse
himself for not caring very much for descriptions
of events on the grand scale. Perhaps he ought to
relate how the war swung from the Rhine to the
Euphrates, from Korea to Denmark, from Lugano
to Haparanda, and so forth. Instead of this, he
would far rather depict the arrival of the Bedouins
in their white burnouses at Geneva, and how
they came galloping in with the heads of their
enemies stuck on their six-foot spears; or the love
204 The Absolute at Large
adventures of a French poilu in Thibet; the caval¬
cades of Russian Cossacks that crossed the Sahara;
the nightly encounters of Macedonia comitadjis with
Senegalese sharpshooters on the shores of the lakes
of Finland. As you see, there is the greatest diver¬
sity of material. Bobinet’s victorious regiments flew,
so to speak, in one dazzling swoop in the footprints
of Alexander the Great across India to China; but
meanwhile the Yellow invasion swept over Siberia
and Russia into France and Spain, thus cutting off
from their native land the Moslems who were
operating in Sweden. The Russian regiments,
retreating before the overwhelming numerical supe¬
riority of the Chinese, found themselves in North
Africa, where Sergei Nikolayevich Zlocin established
his Czardom. He was soon murdered, however,
because his Bavarian generals conspired against his
Prussian hetmans, and Sergei Fyodorovich Zlosin
thereupon ascended the Imperial throne in Tim-
buctoo.
Czechoslovakia was held by the Swedes, French,
Turks, Russians and Chinese in succession; each of
these invasions killed off the native population to
the last man. In the course of those years services
were held, or Mass celebrated, in the Church of St.
Vitus by a pastor, a solicitor, an Imam, an Archi¬
mandrite and a bonze, none of them enjoying any
permanent success. The only gratifying change was
The So-called Greatest War 205
that the Stavovsky Theatre was invariably full, being
used for the purposes of an army store.
When the Japanese had thrust the Chinese out of
Eastern Europe in the year 1951 there arose for a
brief space a new Middle Kingdom (as the Chinese
call their native land), and chance willed that it
should fall precisely within the frontier of the old
empire of Austria-Hungary. Once again an aged
ruler dwelt in Schonbrunn, the old mandarin Jaja
Wir Weana, one hundred and six years old, “to
whose consecrated head rejoicing nations turn their
eyes with child-like love,” as the Wiener Mittags-
zeitung assured its readers daily. The official
language was Chinese, which at one sweep did away
with all nationalistic rivalries. The State god was
Buddha. The stubborn Catholics of Bohemia and
Moravia moved out of the country, or became the
victims of Chinese dragonades and confiscations, by
which the number of national martyrs was increased
to a remarkable extent. On the other hand, several
prominent and prudent Czech patriots were exalted
to mandarin rank by Most Gracious Decree as a
reward for their enlightened adaptability. The
Chinese administration inaugurated many new and
progressive measures, such as the issuing of tickets in
place of provisions; but the Middle Kingdom fell to
pieces very early, as the supply of lead necessary for
munitions ran out, and all authority thereupon col-
206 The Absolute at Large
lapsed. A few of those Chinese who were not killed
remained in the country even in the ensuing period
of peace, and for the most part occupied high
Government positions.
In the meantime the Emperor Bobinet, now resid¬
ing in India, at Simla, learnt that an Amazon Empire
of women existed in the hitherto unexplored river-
territory of the Irawaddy, Salwin, and Mekong. He
set out for that region at once with his Old Guard,
but never again returned. According to one version
he married and settled there. According to another,
Amalia, the Queen of the Amazons, cut off his head
in battle and flung it into a skin filled with blood,
saying, “Satia te sanguine, quem tantum sitisti.”
This second verson is doubtless the milder.
In the end Europe became the theatre of furious
struggles between the black race, which came pour¬
ing out of the interior of Africa, and the Mongolian
race. The happenings of those two years are best
passed over in silence. The last traces of civilization
vanished. For instance, the bears multiplied on
Hradcany to such an extent that the last inhabitants
of Prague destroyed all the bridges, even the Charles
Bridge, to save the right bank of the Vltava from
these bloodthirsty beasts. The population shrank to
an insignificant little group; the Vysehrad Chapter
died out both on the male and female side; the
championship match between the Sparta Club and
The So-called Greatest War 207
the Victoria Zizkov was witnessed by only one
hundred and ten people.
On the other continents the situation was no
better. North America, after the fearful ravages
of the murderous struggles between the Prohibition¬
ists and the “Wets,” had become a Japanese colony.
In South America there had been by turns an Empire
of Uruguay, Chili, Peru, Brandenburg and Pata¬
gonia. In Australia, an Ideal State had been formed,
immediately after the downfall of England, which
transformed this promising land into an uninhabited
desert. In Africa over two million white men had
been eaten. The negroes of the Congo basin had
hurled themselves upon Europe, while the rest of
Africa was in the throes of the fluctuating conflicts
of its one hundred and eighty-six different Emperors,
Sultans, Kings, Chiefs and Presidents.
Such is history, you see. Each one of those hun¬
dred millions of warring pigmies had had his child¬
hood, his loves, his plans; he was often afraid, he
was frequently a hero, but usually he was tired to
death and would have been glad to lie down on his
bed in peace; and if he died, it was certainly against
his will. And from all of this, one can take only a
handful of arid events : a battle here or there, losses
so and so, result this or that — and, after all, the
result never brought about any real decision.
Therefore I say: Do not rob the people of that
208
The Absolute at Large
time of their only boast — that what they went
through was the Greatest War. We, however, know
that in a few decades we shall succeed in arranging
an even greater war, for in this respect also the
human race is progressing ever upward and on.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE BATTLE OF HRADEC KRALOVE
The present chronicler now appeals to August
Sedlacek, Joseph Pekar, and other authorities
on the writing of history, in support of the statement
that a vast amount of historical knowledge can be
drawn from purely local happenings. They mirror
world events as in a drop of water.
Well, then, the drop of water entitled Hradec
Kralove is memorable to the chronicler because he
used to race about in it like a tiny organism, as an
infusorian of the grammar school there, and not
surprisingly thought it the universe; but enough of
that.
The Greatest War found Hradec Kralove armed
with only a single Karburator, and that was in the
brewery still standing to this day behind the Church
of the Holy Spirit, which is next to the residence of
the Canons. Perhaps it was this hallowed environ¬
ment which reacted on the Absolute in such a way
that it began to brew a plentiful and ardently
Catholic beer and thereby brought the citizens of
Hradec to a condition in which the deceased Bishop
Brynch would have taken sincere pleasure.
209
210
The Absolute at Large
However, Hradec Kralove is too close to the
railway, and so it very soon fell into the hands of
the Prussians, who in their Lutheran fury destroyed
the Karburator in the brewery. Nevertheless, mind¬
ful of its historical continuity, Hradec maintained an
agreeable religious temperature, especially when the
enlightened Bishop Linda took over the diocese.
And even when the Bobinets, the Turks, and the
Chinese came, Hradec did not lose its proud con¬
sciousness that (i) it had the best amateur theatre
in all Eastern Bohemia; (ii) it had the tallest steeple
in Eastern Bohemia; (iii) the pages of its local
history contained the greatest battle in Eastern
Bohemia. Heartened by these reflections, Hradec
Kralove withstood the most terrible trials of the
Greatest War.
When the Mandarin Empire collapsed, the city
was under the government of that circumspect
Burgomaster, Mr. Skocdopole. Amid the prevailing
anarchy his administration was blessed with com¬
parative peace, thanks to the wise counsels of Bishop
Linda and the Worshipful City Fathers. But one
fine day there came to the city a poor tailor, Hampl
by name; he was, Heaven help us, a native of
Hradec, but he had knocked about the world ever
since childhood and had even served with the
Foreign Legion in Algeria — in fact, an adventurer.
He marched with Bobinet’s troops to the conquest
The Battle of Hradec Kralove 21 1
of India, but deserted near Baghdad, and had
slipped like a needle through the lines of the Bashi-
Bazouks, French, Swedes and Chinese, back to his
native city.
Well, this Hampl, the little tailor, had caught a
whiff of Bobinetism, and as soon as he got back to
Hradec he thought of nothing but how he could
seize command. Stitching away at clothes didn’t
suit him any longer, thank you ; so he began agitating
and criticizing, saying that one thing and another
was not right, that the whole City Council was under
the thumb of the parsons, and what about that
money in the Savings Bank, and Mr. Skocdopole was
an incapable old dodderer, and what not. Wars,
unfortunately, bring with them a demoralization and
a weakening of all authority, and so Hampl found
several followers and with their assistance founded
the Social-Revolutionary Party.
One day in June friend Hampl summoned a Popu¬
lar Assembly in the Little Square, and standing on
the fountain, shouted out, among other things, that
the people categorically demanded that Skocdopole,
that scoundrel, reactionary, and lackey of the Bishop,
should resign the office of Burgomaster.
In answer to this, Mr. Skocdopole put up posters
stating that he, as the lawfully elected Burgomaster,
need take orders from no one, least of all from an
interloper and a deserter; that in the present times
212
The Absolute at Large
of unrest it was impossible to hold a fresh election,
and that our clear-sighted citizens were well aware
. . . and so forth. This was just what Hampl was
waiting for to carry out his coup a la Bobinet. He
came out of his house on the Little Square, waving
a red flag, with two boys behind him beating drums
with all their might. In this fashion he marched
around the Great Square, paused a while in front of
the Bishop’s palace, and then marched off with roll¬
ing drums to the field near the Orlice river called the
“Little Mill.” There he stuck his standard into the
ground and, seated on a drum, wrote out his declara¬
tion of war. Then he sent the two boys into the city
with orders to beat their drums and read out his
proclamation at every corner; it ran as follows:
In the name of His Highness the Emperor Bobinet,
I hereby summon the royal City of Hradec Kralove to place
the keys of the city gates in my hands. If this is not done
by sunset, I will put into effect the military measures I have
prepared and will attack the city at dawn with artillery,
cavalry and bayonets. I will spare the lives and property
only of those who join my camp at the “Little Mill” by
dawn at latest, bringing all their usable weapons, and take
the oath of allegiance to His Majesty the Emperor Bobinet.
Parlementaires will be shot. The Emperor does not parley.
General Hampl.
This proclamation was read out and caused a
considerable commotion, especially when the sexton
of the Church of the Holy Spirit began to ring the
The Battle of Hradec Kralove 213
tocsin in the White Tower. Mr. Skocdopole called
on Bishop Linda, who, however, laughed at his fears.
Then he summoned an extraordinary meeting of the
City Council, at which he proposed that the keys of
the city gates should be given up to General Hampl.
It was then ascertained that there were no such keys
in existence; a few locks and keys of historical
interest which used to repose in the City Museum
had been carried off by the Swedes. Amid these
perplexities night came on.
All the afternoon, but more particularly towards
evening, people were trickling along the pleasant
lanes towards the Little Mill. “Oh, well,” they
said to each other when they met, “I thought I might
as well come along too just to have a look at that
crazy fellow’s camp.” When they arrived at the
Little Mill, they beheld the meadows already
crowded with people, and Hampl’s aide-de-camp
standing beside the two drums administering the
oath of allegiance to the Emperor Bobinet. Here
and there bonfires were burning, with shadowy
figures flitting about them : in short, it all looked very
picturesque. Several people went back to Hradec
visibly depressed.
By night the sight was even finer. Skocdopole, the
Burgomaster, crept up the White Tower after mid¬
night, and there to the east along the Orlice river
hundreds of fires were burning, thousands of figures
214
The Absolute at Large
were moving about in the firelight, which cast a
blood-red glow over the countryside. It looked
as though entrenchments were being made. The
Burgomaster came down from the tower deeply
perturbed. It was evident that General Hampl’s
menaces regarding his military strength had not been
exaggerated.
At dawn General Hampl emerged from the
wooden mill, where he had sat up all night studying
the plans of the city. Several thousand men, all of
them in civilian clothes, but for the most part armed,
had drawn themselves up in fours; women, old men,
and children thronged around them.
“Forward,” cried Hampl, and at the same instant
the trumpets rang out in the brass band from Mr.
Cerveny’s world-famous wind-instrument works, and
to the tune of a merry march (“The Girls along the
Highway”) Hampl’s forces advanced upon the city.
General Hampl brought his troops to a halt before
the city and sent forward a trumpeter and a herald
with the demand that all non-combatants should
leaves their houses. No one came out, however. The
houses were empty.
The Little Square was empty.
The Great Square was empty.
The whole city was empty.
General Hampl twirled his moustache and made
his way to City Hall. It was open. He entered the
The Battle of Hradec Kralove 21 5
Council Chamber. He took his seat in the Burgo¬
master’s Chair. Sheets of paper were lying spread
out in front of him on the green cloth, and on each
of them these words had been written in a beautiful
hand:
“In the name of His Majesty the Emperor
Bobinet.”
General Hampl stepped to the window and cried :
“Soldiers, the battle is ended. You have crushed
with the mailed fist the clerical tyranny of the
Council clique. An era of progress and freedom
has dawned for our beloved city. Return now, all
of you, to your homes. You have played your part
nobly. Nazdar!” (“Good luck go with you !”)
“Nazdar!” responded the army, and dispersed.
One of Hampl’s warriors (they came to be called
simply Hampelmen) went back home to the Burgo¬
master’s house ; he had shouldered a rifle left behind
by a Chinese soldier.
And so it was that Hampl became Mayor. It
has to be acknowledged that amid the prevailing
anarchy his prudent administration also was blessed
with comparative peace, thanks to the wise counsels
of Bishop Linda and the Worshipful City Fathers.
CHAPTER XXVII
A CORAL ISLAND IN THE PACIFIC
“TXT ell, I’ll go to blazes,” said Captain
T ▼ Trouble, “if that lanky fellow over there
isn’t their leader!”
“That’s Jimmy,” remarked G. H. Bondy. “He
used to work here at one time. I thought he was
quite tame by now.”
“The devil must have owed me something,” the
Captain growled, “or I shouldn’t have had to land
here on this wretched . . . Hereheretua ! ! ! Eh?”
“Listen,” said G. H. Bondy, laying his gun on the
table on the veranda. “Is it the same as this in
other places?”
“I should say so,” boomed Captain Trouble.
“Not far off, on Rawaiwai, Captain Barker and his
whole crew were eaten. And on Mangai they had
a banquet on three millionaires like yourself.”
“Sutherland Bros.?” asked Bondy.
“I think so. And on Starbuck Island they roasted
a High Commissioner. Is was that fat MacDeon;
you know him, don’t you?”
“No.”
216
A Coral Island in the Pacific 2I7
“You don’t know him?” shouted the Captain.
“How long have you been here, man?”
“This is my ninth year,” said Mr. Bondy.
“Then you might well have known him,” the Cap¬
tain said. “So you’ve been here nine years? Busi¬
ness, eh? Or a little home of refuge, is it? On
account of your nerves, I suppose?”
“No,” said Mr. Bondy. “You see, I foresaw
that they were all going to be at loggerheads over
there, so I got out of the way. I thought that here
I would find more peace.”
“Aha, peace! You don’t know our big black
fellows ! There’s a bit of a war going on here all the
time, my lad.”
“Oh well,” G. H. Bondy demurred, “there really
was peace here. They’re quite decent chaps, these
Papuans or whatever you call them. It’s only just
recently that they’ve begun to be . . . rather dis¬
agreeable. I don’t quite understand them. What
are they really after?”
“Nothing special,” said the Captain. “They only
want to eat us.”
“Are they as hungry as all that?” asked Bondy in
amazement.
“I don’t know. I think they do it more out of
religion. It’s one of their religious rites, don’t you
see? Something like communion, I take it. It
takes them that way every now and then.”
218
The Absolute at Large
“Indeed,” said Mr. Bondy thoughtfully.
“Everyone has his hobby,” growled the Captain.
“The local hobby here is to eat up the stranger and
dry his head in smoke.”
“What, smoke it as well?” Mr. Bondy exclaimed
with horror.
“Oh, that’s not done till after you’re dead,” said
the Captain consolingly. “They cherish the smpked
head as a souvenir. Have you ever seen those dried
heads they’ve got in the Ethnographical Museum at
Auckland?”
“No,” said Bondy. “I don’t think . . . that
. . . that I’d look very attractive if I were smoked.”
“You’re a bit too fat for it,” observed the Cap¬
tain, inspecting him critically. “It doesn’t make so
very much difference to a thin man.”
Bondy still looked anything but tranquil. He sat
droopingly on the veranda of his bungalow on the
coral island of Hereheretua, which he had purchased
just before the outbreak of the Greatest War.
Captain Trouble was glowering suspiciously at the
thicket of mangroves and bananas which surrounded
the bungalow.
“How many natives are there on the island?” he
asked suddenly.
“About a hundred and twenty,” said G. H.
Bondy. *
“And how many of us are there in the bungalow?”
A Coral Island in the Pacific 2I9
“Seven, counting the Chinese cook.”
The Captain sighed and looked out to sea. His
ship, the Papeete, lay there at anchor; but to get to
her he would have to go along a narrow path
between the mangroves, and this did not precisely
seem advisable.
“Look, here, sir,” he said after a while, “what
are they squabbling about over there, anyway? Some
boundary or other?”
“Less than that.”
“Colonies?”
“Even less than that.”
“Commercial treaties?”
“No. Only about the truth.”
“What kind of truth?”
“The absolute truth. You see, every nation insists
that it has the absolute truth.”
“Hm,” grunted the Captain. “What is it, any¬
way ?”
“Nothing. A sort of human passion. You’ve
heard, haven’t you, that in Europe yonder, and
everywhere in fact, a ... a God, you know . . .
came into the world.”
“Yes, I did hear that.”
“Well, that’s what it’s all about, don’t you under¬
stand?”
“No, I don’t understand, old man. If you ask
me, the true God would put things right in the world.
220 The Absolute at Large
The one they’ve got can’t be the true and proper
God.”
“On the contrary,” said G. H. Bondy (obviously
pleased at being able to talk for once with an inde¬
pendent and experienced human being), “I assure
you that it is the true God. But I’ll tell you some¬
thing else. This true God is far too big.”
“Do you think so?”
“I do indeed. He is infinite. That’s just where
the trouble lies. You see, everyone measures off a
certain amount of Him and then thinks it is the
entire God. Each one appropriates a little fringe
or fragment of Him and then thinks he possesses
the whole of Him. See?”
“Aha,” said the Captain. “And then gets angry
with everyone else who has a different bit of Him.”
“Exactly. In order to convince himself that God
is wholly his, he has to go and kill all the others.
Just for that very reason, because it means so much
to him to have the whole of God and the whole of
the truth. That’s why he can’t bear anyone else to
have any other God or any other tr(uth. If he once
allowed that, he would have to admit that he himself
has only a few wretched metres or gallons or sack¬
loads of divine truth. You see, suppose Dash were
convinced that it was tremendously important that
only Dash’s underwear should be the best on earth,
he would have to burn his rival, Blank, and all
A Coral Island in the Pacific 221
Blank’s underwear. But Dash isn’t so silly as that
in the matter of underwear; he is only as silly as that
in the matter of religion or English politics. If he
believed that God was something as substantial and
essential as underwear, he would allow other people
to provide themselves with Him just as they pleased.
But he hasn’t sufficient commercial confidence in
Him; and so he forces Dash’s God or Dash’s Truth
on everybody with curses, wars and other unreliable
forms of advertisement. I am a business man and
I understand competition, but this sort of . . .”
“Wait a minute,” interrupted Captain Trouble,
and aimed a shot into the mangrove thicket. “There,
I think that’s one less of them.”
“He died for his faith,” whispered Bondy
' dreamily. “You have forcibly restrained him from
devouring me. He fell for the national ideal of
cannibalism. In Europe people have been devouring
each other from time immemorial out of idealism.
You are a decent man, Captain, but it’s quite possible
that you’d devour me on behalf of any fundamental
principle of navigation. I’ve lost confidence even in
you.”
“You’re quite right,” the Captain grumbled.
“When I look at you, I feel that I’m . .
“. . . . a violent anti-Semite. I know. That
doesn’t matter, I had myself baptized. But do you
know, Captain, what’s got hold of those black idiots?
222
The Absolute at Large
The night before last they fished out of the sea a
Japanese atomic torpedo. They’ve set it up over
there under the coco-nut palms, and now they are
bowing down before it. Now they have a God of
their own. That’s why they must devour us.”
War-cries sounded from the mangrove thicket.
“Do you hear them?” muttered the Captain. “On
my soul, I’d rather ... go through the geometry
examination all over again. . . .”
“Listen,” Bondy whispered. “Couldn’t we go
over to their religion? As far as I am con¬
cerned . . .”
At that moment a gun boomed out from the
Papeete.
The Captain uttered a low cry of joy.
CHAPTER XXVIII
AT SEVEN COTTAGES
nd while the world shook with the clash of
1 armies, while the boundaries of States
writhed to and fro like earth-worms, and the whole
earth was crumbling into a field of ruins, old Mrs.
Blahous was peeling her potatoes in Seven Cottages,
Grandfather Blahous was sitting on the doorstep
smoking beech-leaves, and their neighbour, Mrs.
Prouzova, was leaning on the fence, repeating medi¬
tatively, “Yes, yes.”
“Aye, yes,” returned Blahous after a while.
“My word, yes,” observed Mrs. Blahous.
“That’s how ’tis,” Mrs. Prouzova answered.
“Oh, what’s the use?” said Grandfather Blahous.
“Yes, that’s it,” added Mrs. Blahous, peeling
another potato.
“They say the Italians got a good hiding,” Bla¬
hous announced.
“Who from?”
“From the Turks, I expect.”
“Then, I suppose that’ll be the end of the war?”
“What d’you mean? The Prussians ’ll start off
now.”
223
224
The Absolute at Large
“What, against us?”
“Against the French, they say.”
“Good heavens above, everything will be dear
again.”
“Yes, yes.”
“Aye, yes.”
“What’s the use?”
“They say that the Swiss wrote not long ago that
the others might give it up soon.”
“That’s what I say.”
“Yes. Why, the day before yesterday I paid
fifteen hundred crowns for a candle. I tell you,
Blahous, it was one of those miserable things only
fit for the stable.”
“And you mean to say it cost you fifteen
hundred?”
“Not far off. There’s a rise for you, friends!”
“Aye, yes.”
“My word, yes.”
“Who’s ever have thought it? Fifteen hundred !”
“You could get a fine candle for two hundred at
one time.”
“Yes, auntie, but that’s years ago. Why, even
an egg only cost five hundred in those days.”
“And you could get a pound of butter for three
thousand.”
“And lovely butter, too !”
“And boots for eight thousand.”
At Seven Cottages 22?
“Yes, yes, Mrs. Blahous, things were cheap in
those days.”
“But now - ”
“Yes, yes.”
“If only it was all over and done with!”
There was silence. Old Blahous rose, straight¬
ened his back, and went into the yard for a wisp of
straw.
“Oh, what’s the use?” he said, unscrewing
the head of his pipe in order to pull the straw
through.
“It wasn’t half smelling before,” remarked Mrs.
Blahous, full of interest.
“Smelling,” said Blahous, nodding. “How can
it help smelling? There’s no tobacco left in the
world now. The last packet I had was the one my
son the Professor sent me — let me see, that was in
’49, wasn’t it?”
“That was just four years ago come Easter.”
“So ’twas,” said Granfather Blahous. “We’re
getting an old man now. Very, very old.”
“And what I want to know,” began Mrs. Prou-
zova, “is what’s all this awful to-do about nowa¬
days?”
“What to-do?”
“Well, this war, I mean.”
“Aye, yes, Heaven knows what it’s about,” said
Blahous, blowing down his pipe until it gurgled.
226 The Absolute at Large
“That’s what nobody knows, aunt. They say it’s
about religion — that’s what they tell me.”
“What sort of religion?”
“Oh, ours or the Swiss — nobody knows which.
It’s so as there’ll be only one religion, they say.”
“Well, we used to have only one religion before.”
“But other places had a different one, aunt. They
say there was orders from above that there must be
only one.”
“What sort of orders? Where from?”
“Nobody knows. They say there were once
machines that had religion inside of them. It was
hidden in a sort of long boiler.”
“And what were the boilers for?”
“Nobody knows. Just a sort of boilers. And
they say that God appeared to people to make them
believe. There was a lot in those days, aunt, that
didn’t believe. One has to believe in something;
what’s the use? If people had only believed, God
wouldn’t have appeared to them. So it was only
their godlessness that made Him come into the
world, see, aunt?”
“Well, yes, but what did this awful war begin
for?”
“Nobody knows. People say that the Chinese or
the Turks began it. They say that they brought their
own God with them in those boilers. They’re sup¬
posed to be terrible religious, the Turks and the
At Seven Cottages 227
Chinese. And so they wanted us to believe the way
they did.”
“But why should we?”
“That’s it, nobody knows. If you ask me, the
Prussians started it. And the Swedes, too.”
“Lord, Lord!” lamented Mrs. Prouzova. “And
the prices things are now! Fifteen hundred for a
candle !”
“And what I say,” maintained old Blahous, “is
the Jews started the war so as to make money out
of it. That’s what I say.”
“We could do with some rain,” observed Mrs.
Blahous. “The potatoes are far too small. Like
nuts.”
“It’s my belief,” Blahous went on, “that people
just invented that about the Lord God, so as to have
someone to blame things on. That was all made up.
They wanted a war and they wanted an excuse. It
was all a put-up job.”
“Who did it, then?”
“Nobody knows. What I say is, it was all fixed
up with the Pope and the Jews and the whole lot
of them. Those . . . those . . . Kalburators !”
shouted Grandfather Blahous, in great excitement.
“I’d like to say it to their faces! Why, did anybody
need a new Lord God? The old one was good
enough for us country people. There was just
enough of Him, and He was good, and honest and
228
The Absolute at Large
upright. He didn’t show himself to anybody, but
we had peace instead. . . .”
“What are you asking for your eggs, Prouzova?”
“I’m getting two thousand each at present.”
“They say they’re asking three in Trutnov.”
“And I tell you,” declared old Blahous vehe¬
mently, “it was bound to come. People were cross
with each other even then. Why, your husband
that’s dead now, Prouzova, God rest his soul, was
a spiritualist or medium or something in those days.
And one time I said to him just in fun, ‘I say,
Prouza, you might call back that evil spirit that’s
just escaped from me.’ And he lost his temper, and
from that day to the day of his death he never spoke
a word to me again. Yet he was my neighbour, mind
you, aunt. And look at Tony Vlcek. He always
swore by those foxfates that you fertilize with, and
if anyone didn’t believe in them, he’d keep on going
for him like mad. And my son, the Professor, tells
me it’s the same wherever you go. If anyone sets
his mind on anything, he must have everybody else
believe in it. And he won’t let anyone alone. That’s
how it’s all come about.”
“Yes, yes,” said Aunt Prouzova, yawning.
“What’s the use of it all?”
“Ah, yes,” sighed Mrs. Blahous.
“That’s the way things are in this world,” added
Mrs. Prouzova.
At Seven Cottages 229
“And you women would like to go on cackling
all day long,” Grandfather Blahous concluded
peevishly, and tottered off into the house.
. . . And the earth shook with the clash of
armies, and thinkers in every camp confidently
asserted that “a brighter day was dawning.”
CHAPTER XXIX
THE LAST BATTLE
IN the autumn of 1953 the Greatest War was draw¬
ing to a close. There were no armies left. The
armies of occupation, cut off for the most part from
their homes, were dwindling away and gradually
vanishing like water in the sand. Self-appointed
generals marched from town to town, or rather from
heap to heap of ruins, at the head of five men, one
a drummer, one a thief, one a schoolboy, one a man
with a gramophone, and one of whom nobody knew
anything. They went about collecting contributions
or arranging benefit performances “in aid of the
wounded and their widows and orphans.” No one
knew by now how many warring camps there were.
Amid this universal and indescribable collapse
the Greatest War drew to its close. The end came
so unexpectedly that no one nowadays can tell just
where the last so-called decisive battle was fought.
Historians are still at variance as to which engage¬
ment marked the close and extinction of the world-
conflagration. Certain of them (such as Diihrich,
Assbridge, and more particularly Moroni) are
230
231
The Last Battle
inclined to the view that it was the battle of Lintz.
In these extensive operations sixty soldiers were
engaged, representing eleven hostile camps. The
conflict broke out in the large saloon of the Rose
Inn, the immediate cause being the waitress Hilda
(as a matter of fact it was Marena Ruzickova of
Novy Bydzov). Giuseppe, the Italian, proved
victorious and carried Hilda off; but since she ran
away next day with a Czech called Vaclav Hruska,
this too was not a decisive battle.
The historian Usinski records a similar battle at
Gorochovky, Leblond a skirmish at Le Batignolles,
and Van Goo a fight near Nieuport; but it would
seem that local patriotism influenced them more
directly than genuinely historical motives. In short,
no one knows which was the last battle of the Great¬
est War. Nevertheless, it can be determined with
considerable certitude from documents that are
striking in their agreement, i.e. the series of
prophecies that appeared before the Greatest War.
■y a
For example, a phophecy printed in Swabian
characters had been preserved since 1845, foretell¬
ing that in a hundred years “terrible times will come,
and many armed men will fall in battle,” but that
“in a hundred months thirteen nations would meet
in the field under a birch-tree, and slaughter each
other in a desperate struggle,” which would be fol¬
lowed by fifty years of peace.
23 2 The Absolute at Large
In the year 1893 the Turkish prophetess Wali
Schon ( ?) predicted that “five times twelve years
would pass ere peace would reign over the whole
world; in that year thirteen emperors would make
war upon each other and would meet in battle under
a birch-tree. Then there would be peace, such a
peace as there had never been before and never
would be again.”
The vision of a certain negress in Massachusetts
is also quoted, dating from 1909, when she beheld
“a black monster with two horns, a yellow monster
with three horns, and a red monster with eight horns,
fighting under a tree (birch-tree?) until their
blood besprinkled the whole world.” It is inter¬
esting to note that the total number of horns is
thirteen, apparently symbolical of the thirteen
nations.
In 1920 the Very Reverend Dr. Arnold foretold
that “there would be a great Twenty Years’ War
in which the whole world would be involved. One
great Emperor would perish in that war, three
great Empires would fall, ninety-nine capital cities
would be destroyed, and the last battle of that war
would be the last battle of the century.”
To the same year belong “The Vision of Jona¬
than” (printed in Stockholm) : “War and pestilence
will lay waste nine-and-ninety countries, and nine-
and-ninety kingdoms will vanish and rise again. The
233
The Last Battle
last battle will last nine-and-ninety hours, and will be
so bloody that all the victors will be able to find
room in the shade of one birch-tree.”
A German popular prophecy dating from 1923
speaks of the battle on the Birkenfeld ( Birch field).
More than two hundred similar prophetic docu¬
ments of the period between 1845 and 1944 have
been preserved. In forty-eight of these the number
“thirteen” occurs; in seventy of them the “birch-
tree” appears; in fifteen merely the “tree.” It may
therefore be concluded that the last battle took place
in the neighbourhood of a birch-tree. Who took
part in the struggle we do not know, but there were
altogether only thirteen men left alive out of the
various armies, and they presumably lay down after
the battle in the shade of a birch-tree. That moment
saw the end of the Greatest War.
It is, however, possible that the “birch” is brought
in symbolically, instead of a place-name. There are
one hundred and seven places in the country of the
Czechs alone containing the Czech word for birch,
such as Brezany, Brezovice, and Brezolupy. Then
there is the German Birke and names like Birken-
berg, Birkenfeld, Birkenhaid, Birkenhammer, Bir-
kicht, Birkental, etc.; or the English Birkenhead,
Birchington, Birchanger, and so on; or the French
Boulainvilliers, Boulay, etc. Thus the number of
towns, villages, and localities where the last battle
234
The Absolute at Large
in all probability took place is narrowed down to a
few thousand (as long as we confine ourselves to
Europe, which certainly has a prior claim to the Last
Battle). Individual scientific research will establish
where it occurred. Who won it cannot possibly be
determined.
But perhaps after all — the fancy is alluring —
there did stand near the scene of the last act of the
world-tragedy a slender silvery birch. Perhaps a
lark sang above the battle-field and a white butterfly
fluttered over the heads of the combatants. And
look, by this time there is hardly anyone left to kill 1
It is a hot October day, and one hero after another
steps aside, turns his back upon the battle-field, eases
himself, and lies down longing for peace in the
shadow of the birch-tree. At last the whole thirteen
of them are lying there, all the survivors of the Last
Battle. One lays his weary head on his neighbour’s
boots, another rests his on the first man’s back,
undisturbed by his breathing. The last thirteen
soldiers left in the world as asleep beneath a birch-
tree.
Towards evening they waken, look at each other
with suspicion, and reach for their weapons. And
then one of them — history will never learn his name
— says, “Oh, damn it, boys, let’s chuck it!”
“Right you are, mate,” says the second man with
relief, laying aside his weapon.
The Last Battle 235
“Give us a bit of bacon, then, fathead,” the third
one asks with a certain gentleness.
The fourth man returns, “Crikey, I could do with
a smoke. Hasn’t anybody got a - ?”
“Let’s clear off, boys,” urges the fifth. “We’re
not going to have any more of it.”
“I’ll give you a cigarette,” says the sixth, “but
you’ll have to give me a bit of bread.”
“We’re going home, boys . . . think of it . . .
home,” the seventh one cries.
“Is your old woman expecting you?” the eighth
man asks.
“My God, it’s six years since I slept in a proper
bed,” sighs the ninth.
“What a mug’s game it was, lads!” says the tenth
man, spitting disgustedly.
“It was that!” the eleventh replies, “but we’ve
done with it now.”
“We’ve done with it,” repeats the twelfth man.
“We’re not such fools. Let’s go home, mates !”
“Oh, but I’m glad it’s all over,” concludes the
thirteenth, turning over to lie on the other side.
And such, one can well imagine, was the end of
the Greatest War.
CHAPTER XXX
THE END OF EVERYTHING
Many years went by. Brych the stoker, now
the proprietor of a locksmith’s business,
was sitting in the Damohorsky tavern, reading a
copy of the People’s Journal.
“The liver sausages will be ready in a minute,”
announced the landlord, emerging from the kitchen.
And bless me if it wasn’t old Jan Binder, who used
to own the merry-go-round. He had grown fat and
no longer wore his striped jersey; nevertheless it
was he!
“There’s no hurry,” Mr. Brych answered slowly.
“Father Jost hasn’t turned up yet. Nor Rejzek
either.”
“And — how is Mr. Kuzenda getting along?” Jan
Binder inquired.
“Oh, well, you know. He’s not very grand. He’s
one of the best men breathing, Mr. Binder.”
“He is, indeed,” assented the innkeeper. “I don’t
know . . . Mr. Brych . . . what about taking him
a few liver saugages with my compliments ? They’re
first class, Mr. Brych, and if you’d be so kind . .
236
237
The End of Everything
“Why, with pleasure, Mr. Binder. He’ll be
delighted to think you remember him. Of course
I will. With pleasure!”
“Praise be the Lord!” came a voice from the door¬
way, and Canon Jost stepped into the room, his
cheeks ruddy with the cold, and hung up his hat and
fur coat.
“Good evening, your Reverence,” responded Mr.
Brych. “We’ve waited for you — we’ve waited.”
Father Jost pursed his lips contentedly and rubbed
his stiffened hands. “Well, sir, what’s in the papers,
what have they got to say to-day?”
“I was just reading this: ‘The President of the
Republic has appointed that youthful savant, Dr.
Blahous, Lecturer at the University, to be Assistant
Professor.’ You remember, Canon, it’s that Blahous
who once wrote an article about Mr. Kuzenda.”
“Aha, aha,” said Father Jost, wiping his little
spectacles. “I know, I know, the atheist. They
are a lot of infidels at the University. And you’re
another, Mr. Brych.”
“Come, his Reverence will pray for us, I know,”
said Mr. Binder. “He’ll want us in heaven to make
up the card-party. Well, your Reverence, two and
one ?”
“Yes, of course, two and one.”
Mr. Binder opened the kitchen door and shouted:
“Two liver sausages and one blood-sausage.”
23 8 The Absolute at Large
“ ’Evening!” growled Rejzek, the journalist,
entering the room. “It’s cold, friends.”
“It’s a very pleasant evening,” chirped Mr.
Binder. “We don’t get company like this every
day.”
“Well, what’s the news?” inquired Father Jost
gaily. “What’s going on in the editorial sanctum?
Ah, yes, I used to write for the papers myself in my
young days.”
“By the way, that fellow Blahous mentioned me
in the paper too that time,” said Mr. Brych. “I’ve
still go the cutting somewhere: ‘The Apostle of
Kuzenda’s Sect,’ or something like that, he called
me. Yes, yes, those were the days!”
“Let’s have supper,” ordered Mr. Rejzek. Mr.
Binder and his daughter were already setting
sausages on the table. They were still sizzling,
covered with frothing bubbles of fat, and they
reclined upon crisp sauerkraut like Turkish oda¬
lisques on cushions. Father Jost clicked his tongue
resoundingly and cut into the first beauty before him.
“Splendid,” said Mr. Brych after a while.
“Mhm,” came from Mr. Rejzek after a lengthier
interval.
“Binder, these do you credit,” said the Canon
approvingly.
A silence ensued, full of appreciation and pious
meditations.
The End of Everything 239
“Allspice,” contributed Mr. Brych. “I love the
smell of it.”
“But it mustn’t be too much in evidence.”
“No, this is just as it should be.”
“And the skin must be just crisp enough.”
“Mhm.” And again conversation ceased for a
space.
“And the sauerkraut must be nice and white.”
“In Moravia,” said Mr. Brych, “they make the
sauerkraut like a sort of porridge. I was there as
an apprentice. It’s quite runny.”
“Oh, come,” exclaimed Father Jost. “Sauerkraut
has to be strained. Don’t talk such nonsense. Why,
the stuff wouldn’t be fit to eat.”
“Well, there you are . . . they do eat it that way
down there. With spoons.”
“Horrible !” cried the Canon, marvelling. “What
extraordinary people they must be, friends ! Why,
sauerkraut should only just be greased, shouldn’t it,
Mr. Binder? I don’t understand how anyone could
have it any other way.”
“Well, you know,” said Mr. Brych meditatively,
“it’s just the same with sauerkraut as it is with
religion. One man can’t understand how another
can believe anything different.”
“Oh, enough of that!” protested Father Jost.
“Why, I’d sooner believe in Mahomet than eat
sauerkraut made any other way. After all, reason
240 The Absolute at Large
teaches one that sauerkraut ought only to be
greased.”
“And don’t reason teach one one’s religion.”
“Our religion, certainly,” said the Canon deci¬
sively. “But the others are not based on reason.”
“Now we’ve got back again to just where we were
before the war,” sighed Mr. Brych.
“People are always getting back just where they
used to be,” observed Mr. Binder. “That’s what
Mr. Kuzenda is always saying. Tinder, ’ he often
says, ‘the truth can never be defeated. You know,
Binder,’ he says, ‘that God of ours on the dredge in
those days wasn’t so bad, nor was yours on the
merry-go-round, and yet, you see, they’ve both of
them vanished. Everyone believes in his own supe¬
rior God, but he doesn’t believe in another man, or
credit him with believing in something good. People
should first of all believe in other people, and the
rest would soon follow.’ That’s what Mr. Kuzenda
always says.”
“Yes, yes,” assented Mr. Brych. “A man may
certainly think that another religion is a bad one,
but he oughtn’t to think that the man who follows it
is a low, vile, and treacherous fellow. And the same
applies to politics and everything.”
“And that’s what so many people have hated and
killed each other for,” Father Jost declared. “You
know, the greater the things are in which a man
The End of Everything 24r
believes, the more fiercely he despises those who do
not believe in them. And yet the greatest of all
beliefs would be belief in one’s fellow-men.”
“Everyone has the best of feelings towards man¬
kind in general, but not towards the individual man.
We’ll kill men, but we want to save mankind. And
that isn’t right, your Reverence. The world will
be an evil place as long as people don’t believe in
other people.”
“Mr. Binder,” said Father Jost thoughtfully, “I
wonder if you would make me some of that Mora¬
vian sauerkraut to-morrow. I’d like to try it.”
“It has to be partly stewed and then steamed, and
done like that with a fried sausage it’s very good.
Every religion and every truth has something good
in it, if it’s only the fact that it suits somebody else.”
The door was opened from outside, and a police¬
man stepped in. He was chilled to the bone and
wanted a glass of rum.
“Ah, it’s you, is it, Sergeant Hruska,” said Brych.
“Well now, where have you come from?”
“Oh, we’ve been up in Zizkov,” answered the
policeman, pulling off his enormous gloves. “There
was a raid on.”
“What did you catch?”
“Oh, a couple of roughs, and a few undesirables.
And then at number 1006 — in the cellar of the
house, I mean — there was a den.”
242 The Absolute at Large
“What sort of den?” inquired Mr. Rejzek.
“A Karburator den, sir. They had set up a
tiny Karburator down there out of an old pre-war
motor. A very low crowd has been going down
there and holding orgies.”
“What kind of orgies do you mean?”
“Oh, disorderly behaviour. They pray and sing
and have visions and prophesy and perform miracles,
and all that sort of business.”
“And isn’t that allowed?”
“No, it’s forbidden by the police. You see, it’s
something like those dens where they smoke opium.
We found one of them in the Old Town. We’ve
routed out seven of these Karburator caverns
already. An awful gang used to collect there:
vagrants, loose women, and other doubtful char¬
acters. That’s why it’s forbidden. It’s a breach
of the peace.”
“And are there many haunts of this kind?”
“Not now. I think this one was the last of the
Karburators.”
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